Upon a sacred brow
Two eyes of limpid pools
Gone foul
And lonely with despair
Misery lives here
A crease turned wrinkle turned scar
To mar the smooth complexion
As worry breaks camp
And builds house and home
Misery lives here.
An experiment, to see if I am capable of writing one poem a day for an entire year. Readers are welcome to comment on the work, or post their own work in response.