Direction
it was the roses
that kept him going
crimson petals
and cinnamon scent
the wreath
full of thorns
with ink blood
tattooed to his crown
a garland of nettles
propelled his feet
as he took the lonely walk
away from the crossroad
17th August 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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
