They bled out blue
in cold red flames
washing over a
numbed out pain
I watched the moon
cut five times deep
and in the mirror
the sun did weep
The cradle was stained
a salt water white
as thorn bushes bloomed
all through the night
Wretched the soulless
beaten with care
drank up the vintage
of ageless despair
The shell of the trodden
and worn down earth
gave the cries forgotten
no measure of worth
I stood at the edge
of a hell so wide
as the emptiness
sank far inside
They touched my heel
My skin did crawl
until I woke from
the nightmares of all
(November 10th, 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...
