languidly so worn
what burns as badly
as a pressing
of clothes
languidly worn
in the bloody past,
there's no silver star,
its killing me to wish
not for a bull with horns
Its hurting to try to win....
I've caved in Empires
in the closure of caves
just a kid pretending......
There's the eyes ahead
but not above this sadly.
Copyright © Ryan Geoffrey Hayward | Year Posted 2025
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