A Sense For Sin
Hear the thunder within your ears,
Crashing down upon your fears,
See the footsteps from their meeting,
Behind it all, we are secretly bleeding,
Smell the blood upon the air,
Signaling murder without a flare,
Taste the embers upon your tongue,
Our weapons become obsolete, dull, and blunt,
Feel me tremble from your cold touch,
Sense the sorrow, fing the joy, although there isn't much.
~Ed Owens
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
