Scorn
Through in through,
Show this scar.
Dust it pours,
Falling far.
Through the fingertips,
And in the air.
Emotions boil down,
Giving it your share.
Tears you bring,
White dress shine.
Flowers escape,
In due time.
I'm calling,
The dig down,
It pumps red,
Gentile sound.
In breathe,
Beyond words,
"I want,"
All heard.
Eyes locked,
Hands torn,
Feet move,
You're scorn.
Copyright © Josh Cumpian | Year Posted 2009
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