Black Tantrum
Something yond is sore to proveth,
judging those who is't disagreeth,
hurst nay hast peat swamp.
People breath their owneth blood,
Ulcers replaceth green air?
Benumbed lungs and panshard death,
city born city bred?
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.
