A Lost Soul
Our linguistic limbs sulk as the
dreary day progresses.
It begs and aches for more pain
for it's grown accustomed.
The longing and desire that lingers
within the blood pulsating
As each day marches forth,
A feeling of hate submerges and
dominates the emotion sulking
back
Toward the dark core we now possess.
Copyright © Ravenn Wolf | Year Posted 2012
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