Deaths Black Shadow
Run don’t walk slipping through the fingers of deaths black glove falling through the walls.
You need to realize your special not the same you’re the one death want s for his own
Taking through the hollows of every kid’s imagination having nothing their falling through the crack in the ceiling. Wood rotting, falling down, and crashing in the woods. trees killing your innocence with every shadow crisp breath or shaky voice. Your get covered in black silk. Dead.
Copyright © Grace Kidd | Year Posted 2013
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