it's ten to closing
with hope edging on
a race to the beat
before the light bleeds in
cut me down to size
to fit in your mold
like a melt into place
or so we say
i'm trapped in a bottle
filled with malt
leaking out the bones
like faded piano keys
crying lightning scars
tissue exposed to the meadow
whereas we go too far
deep pools unto you
tell me about the parties
even the parts in reason
tell me im pretty
just to soothe the beating
YOU ARE READING
if not human
Poetrythe anthology of emotion, the passing of life, the epilogue of pure, unfiltered regret this is "if not human" poems, prose and stories from the dark
