Submit a Poem
Get Your Premium Membership
spacer
Pinterest button
Comments Inbox

 

Im about to

I’m about to throw my life into this defenseless jagged racket of misery…

I have seen the scars too many times; I only remember being a mystery…

Look at this mirror… This face is not of gold, it’s not of gold, it’s not of gold…

I’m about to yank this rope of my flawless imperfection until I choke on my spit…

This disguise is not working for anyone, greeting Mr. Reaper in the vengeful cold…

Such a misfortune, all the time that has been wasted on my Destruction…

Bias released this smoky pasture just for my cradle of non-handling greed…

Unrelenting segmental malfunction on the gateway of my lost creed…

So long ago, I rest; waiting; and waiting; and waiting… waiting on a cure…

Waiting for so long, to figure there is no cure…

I laugh; bitter with gentle whips…

Against one’s regretful back…

 Don’t look back…
Take that…

Please Login to post a comment



A comment has not been posted for this poem. Be the first to comment.