Lines
The blender of time
has utilized my face
as a map to find
its way back home.
Discombobulation
is made with the wits
of the desperate
and the alone.
To be dangling
off of a cliff
holding the hand
of someone
you do not trust.
Has made me more
of the man I am
than any loyal
or delicate love.
I hold in my hand
god's only command
to complicate
my own.
And with this pride
and sin inside
I carve my word
in bone.
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.
