When the Words Come

by

Phil Pochurek

Where will you be
When the words come?
Driving home late at night
In the rain,
With the steering wheel in your hands
Talking to yourself again.
Finally able to express your pain
Without going numb.
Hypnotized by the center line
Into your confessions.
Trying to rationalize, remove,
Your indiscretions
Like a stain from your conscience.
So you can look in the mirror again
Without regret, shame, disgust,
The guilt of knowing you were wrong,
While you stuffed yourself
On their praise, their trust.
You slew the truth
As if it were a dragon,
With your evil words
And won.
And no one knew,
What you had done
But you.
Where will you be
When the words come?

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Release Your Dreams
by: Kathleen Boland
from: Kansas City, KS, US

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