Epiom of Truth
...And then the shedding of the realism's dream,
it's loose follicles scattered loosely abroad;
we travelers leave a little piece behind,
skin, eye lash, dream;
...it is the memory that survives.
It is cast drifting in wind, your particles;
kissing your passerby, your followers,
we share ourselves with all who dwell,
those who hate, only hate themselves.
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.
