Colin F. Jones

CONSEQUENCES

~ 1 ~

He opens the gate of betrayal in providing trust,
Expecting his trust to be ever returned.
But she fears to repent for her knowledge of lust,
Is not something about which he has learned.
He sees all in himself, his ideas and his charms,
Never seeing beyond the sag of his brow,
Thinking perfection exists in the wrap of his arms,
And real emotion is controlled by a vow.
Yet life is a deception suiting his role,
Complacent ignorance providing his bliss,
False love was the joy that was keeping him whole,
Until he discovered the wayward kiss,
Was more than a moment passing the eye,
But a long serpent with a hideous hiss.

~ 2 ~

A promise is something no one can keep,
And though more sacred, so is a vow,
We relive our ‘sins’ in the dreams of our sleep,
Because to be perfect we do not know how.
But what is perfection; just someone’s idea,
Of an image they falsely can see,
For no one is ever quite the way they appear,
You know not all of the defects in me.
What is taken for granted is disappointment postponed,
Based on Expectations, shared not by the other,
What lives in your heart is not necessarily cloned,
It may not dwell in the heart of your brother.
All that we become is not all that we are,
It takes a long time for ourselves to discover.

~ 3 ~

If there’s no joy in my sorrow, then what do I do,
Become depressed and pretend all the pain,
Is due to some other with a disagreeable view,
Who is responsible for my feeling of shame.
Disappointment is rife in the self righteous mind,
For expectation in such a person is high,
They judge others by themselves to be honest and kind,
Though self appraisal is often a lie.
They seldom take time to cross over the road,
To take a long look from the other side,
Thus they fail to see that dreams oft erode,
Given momentum from what they provide.
A sin caught in a snare may never break free,
If they fail to dismantle their pride.

~ 4 ~

Betrayal of trust is devastating and sad,
It is a crime unpunished by law,
But what we reap from the lesson is not all bad,
There are still things in life to explore.
It is the way of the animal imperfect and slick,
Primitive in many respects,
Slaves to desire and nonsensical rhetoric,
That the natural aspects of life rejects.
We cannot predict what the future will hold,
For nothing on Earth stays the same,
Sometimes we are hot; sometimes we are cold,
We lose, and sometimes we gain.
But we who survive will wither and grow old,
And then die to end all the pain.