The wavy moccasins,
Slither their way up your tree
They bite at the roots,
And strip you of your decree.
The dusty, hazel clouds cover the asylum,
That cover your mind.
The grass has started to rot.
A lot.
Black has covered the tips,
Including your lips
Your existence has become thin.
Not just from the surface,
But from within.
YOU ARE READING
The Raven's Hymn
Poetry"A wonderful moonlight, Shines on your soul. It illuminates a sillhouette, Of waves that cause havoc With haphazard directions of agony. Let the raven welcome you to it's domain, And sing unto you, The symphony of many." Highest ranking in inspiring...
