i have tasted freedom
the drip from the bloody claw of god
and when i find you in the morning
will you sip from the same cup?
in the bright of morning
and the darkest hang of dusk
when there is no one to call your name
is it still freedom?
or are we closer now
than we ever were before
and when the yawp closes out
is it freedom you've longed for?
the edge of the abyss
right before you sink into me
the silence dictates your final words
"was my freedom all in vain?"
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
