There is no beauty in it

There is no beauty in it

Whatever might have been

In the beginning

Has long since gone

Shrivelled into a gnarled

Old walnut

Too rotten on the inside

To be of any use

In a fruit cake

Without any sweetness

To interest the palate

There is no

Hope of forgiveness

Or sympathy for wastefulness

As the time spent waiting

Is not put to good use

Stewing in one’s own juices

Is without reward

When the eggs are off

Everything is tainted

There is no future in it

Every goose is cooked

Within an inch

Of its life

There is no love in it

Whatever you believe

Is cast out

In favour of the lie

You tell yourself

Justification

Is a selfish tool

Used to stir the pot

One more time

With every single turn

The mixture you create

No matter how it sets

Is still poison to the soul

There is no goodness

It will sour love

There is no reasoning

In the believing

It just occupies the space

Spit it out

Purge all the hate

You ever ate

It’s not too late