Curtains
sleeping on the edge
underneath the secret vault
the monster turns its head and winks
at the passing fog of the universe
it drinks the biting tears of the wistful
and swallows their mangled faith
spits them out, defiant and cold
the spitfires of his wraith
YOU ARE READING
Tearful Canvas: A Collection
PoetryA book of poetry. My very own twisted sanctuary - pieces of art, history, love, hate, and everything in between.
