Broken
BROKEN
I can’t say how it feels,
But surely know where it hurts.
I’m not a twister of fate,
Only drained by the flakes of emotions.
I’m not a twister of words,
But find solace in my ink
Poured on white, dividing my thoughts into:
Sharing its pains and relief.
I’m not a lover of man,
But I do know an immortal
Dressed in flair skin.
Effusion of overflowing wisdom
Expands in my lungs
Out of watery tongue
At a trivia sight
I’m really not a twister of words,
But twisting is my favorite way
Of which my cognition is told.
Copyright © Ann Yeeka | Year Posted 2021
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