King
Cannibals gather,
for the feast of knowledge,
devouring themselves,
in games of fire & instinct.
In desperation,
lost kings search for the King,
anointed in love.
Shepard’s forked tongues,
breed wounded warriors.
Share me not in the
bounty of bitter roots,
and darkened dreams.
Cleanse me in Lamb’s blood.
Set me free. . .
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.
