Wither, wither
Wither away
My skin to dust
Coat and coagulate
Trip up the magistrate
Enjoy the fall
My autumn is a cold night spent with a bawl
Till I'm just dust and salt
Not but a skeleton that pretends to be man
Living hourglass
Countdown to my pass
As past becomes future en masse
It's just a sad recall
Every moment
Every fucking moment
To just dust and salt
This strain
Dna
It's dead and decaying
It's constant pain
Down to the very grain
Every fibre
Every strain
Every piece that forms this name
All the things
Each resonates with this
Chaotic and disordered
Not but a skeleton
Again and again
It repeats all the same
Live, die, decay.
YOU ARE READING
Pandora's Box
PoetryA collection of poetry inspired by everyday life, love, pain and heartbreak. Basically my thoughts and reflections. Each poem, a reflection of either the words in my heart, the words in my mind, or the words on my tongue. Almost always though, they'...
