You sit at my table
and eat of my flesh
Do my entrails warm you
of the cold outside?
Viscera visions of death
erodes my mind
while you lay bare my bones
Does it amuse you
to watch me suffer so,
for even a buzzard
shows pity?
My heart pumps no more
from whence blood once flowed
A river
as dry as sand
BINABASA MO ANG
Fallen Stars
PoetryA collection of poetry, prose, brevity, musings, writings and chaotic scribbling from dachaoticmind.
