16
A marked call
In the hall.
Crawling and screaming for something well,
The voices rising after the bell.
We reached close
To not delay the hoes.
The rants;
Not sparing the plants.
We all rose
Cussing through our nose.
And...the rusted pin,
Leading to the deadly sin.
YOU ARE READING
The 50 Shades Of Balladry
PoetryWelcome, Welcome, Welcome. To the story I tell, To the feelings I reveal, To the words I spell. I wish, I wish that you alone Could understand and capture The words of a young writer. Whom her poems are entangled by Her fallen parts. They call her ...
