Get Your Premium Membership

Brexit

You and I are not the same although, We breath one air. Yet I still know, That we could make it work. We, Fed our frightening spree. Rather with you then, Alone again. As hate nighs, Big Ben, Dies.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016




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