Baby gone
black eyed blue
and whispered to me
of the things you do
Leaned against
her window pane
in a well of tears
and all her shame
The puppeteer
placed the words
in her mouth
so absurd
Looking back
she had to laugh
or break down again
in this dirty glass
(October 11th, 2017)
YOU ARE READING
Post Modern Mystic
PoetryPoetry fills a need of the human heart to express through the construction of artistic verse, the things that hide in its depths. This book of poetry is my attempt to reach those places and beyond. See if I do. Let me know if I reach you. This will...
