Get Your Premium Membership

Black Crescent Doom

Red and orange heat of doom Making a black crescent layout Having the last thing you hear a shout A shout calling for help Or a shout of eaking pain Searching for a breath of air For smoke comes from this black crescent doom Making the lungs you rely on, give out And give up You have no more air No more living Suffocating by this black crescent doom

Copyright © | Year Posted 2007




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.


Book: Shattered Sighs