Omen of Truth

To see the sorrow in a bustling crowd,
And the tears of pain in laughter,
You’ve glanced inside the soul of man,
And seen all his little power.

Auguries of Innocence (William Blake)

To see a world in a grain of sand,
And heaven in a wild flower,
You hold infinity in your hand
And eternity in an hour.

My other poetry follows much in the same vein as this. Strong and bitter in subject matter, weak in style and structure. A bit of a bad combination, then.

Here's another. This one's got a bit of a sting, so people in a sensitive mood right now should probably stay away - this won't help.

A Promise

A promise is a promise,
And something to be avoided.
Don’t swear, don’t shake, don’t even hint,
My word isn’t something to be toyed with.

The curse of conscientiousness,
Is both my greatest virtue and vice,
When wronged, it’s swift in vengeance,
You won’t catch me lying twice.

Not that the rest of the world has noticed.
But don’t worry, the time will come,
When truth will look through its records,
And come to you, one by one.

That judgement day, the whip shall leave me,
And go in search of fresh blood,
Entwine itself around the hypocrites,
Maybe send a righteous flood.

I can swim, not only that, but fly,
And free at last, will soar,
While beneath me all the lies will die,
And file up at Hell’s door.

Comments on how I might improve are welcome. I have some more poetry if anyone expresses an interest to see it.