By Me
Father, Mother
Son or Daughter?
Who will be the first to slaughter?
In a family filled with fighting,
One should learn the art of hiding.
Stay in cupboards, attics, closets,
Somewhere that the dust deposits.
Punching, kicking, scratching, clawing,
Let no one see what you are drawing.
Concrete roses, fields of snow,
Pages fill and pages go.
Broken hearted wings are torn,
Watching faces fill with scorn.
Cry yourself to sleep tonight,
Tears glow in the bright moonlight,
Sadness, Anger, Fear and Spite,
Prepare your self for one last fight.
Eenie, Meenie, Miny, Moe,
Who will be the first to go?
.
.
.
.
This poem is about me and my family, a little exaggerated though.
Kiba
YOU ARE READING
My favorite poems
KöltészetHere are some poems I really like. Some are mine, but most aren't. I will give credit to the real authors, so I hope no one tries to kill me.
