Monday, June 18, 2012

The Guardians

The guardians at the gate know my name. But still won’t let me cross. I don’t belong, they preach. I’m not wanted anywhere. The devil rises up heavy with gold and offers me a bed. I tell him my soul is not for sale. But he knows best. After all it is his demons that have created this mess. -Johnny V.
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2 comments:

  1. AnonymousJune 19, 2012 at 5:09 AM

    Nicely done. I like it.

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  2. Johnny V.June 19, 2012 at 4:44 PM

    Thank you. I am sorta proud of this one too. I recently entered a poetry contest at a local coffee house. They will choose the winner Monday night. Cross your fingers. And thanks for the comment.

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