What makes us do that which we do
When malice taints a love that’s true?
What makes jealous eyes turn red
When, green, the heart succumbs the head?
What poisons sweet’s caressing care
That none but bitter words are shared?
How justified is am’rous hate:
Tormented stars crossed pois’nous fate?
How proven earned this altered look
From fainter hearts the softness took?
How soured spring’s enchanting song
That temper’s short and grudges, long?
When does love depart the soul
And leave the lover partly whole?
When do darts for eyes replace
The dewy eyes that hold a face?
When ceases beating, thrumming heart,
Replaces stone in vital part?
Where does the clock permit the crime
That hours measure fonder time?
Where lies the bed that saves a grave
For kindness, where that love was gave?
Where goes the man whose words are dear
When quiet’s break becomes the fear?
Who makes revenge or wages war,
The first to cross the line’ed floor?
Who picks the pebble, slings the stone,
The first to call himself alone?
Who, the lover, deems it wise
To turn away with vengeful eyes?
Why, in loss of dreamer’s tale,
Do actions hint of hateful veil?
Why must one extreme of joy
Be polarized when it’s destroyed?
Why, is all I ask of you,
Why, if truth is truly true?
This is so simple an idea yet really one of my favorite poems I've read all semester. All of these questions are so well thought out, I really feel like you picked every word with something in mind, and I haven't really understood that concept until I read this. Reeeeeally good job!
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