Enemy Lines
Wars, why do we thrist it?
Bullets, skeleton hearts, and dirt's
decaying mouth hush your slave
sleeps chains around zero.
Lover is dead the cupid shot
her in the head.
One foot on the earth
another spirit leaves.
Unknown judgement.
False religion.
Masks torn from the
hummingbird's wing
reflecting flight.
A flight of guns’ flaking nozzles,
of spring aching with
winter and summer's
disease.
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.
