Metamorphosis 2
No calm platitudes, no testament ,
only open discussion
with emotion, the ghost
of wounds so deep
that colour bleeds implicit,
red for the dying weapon
of anger, yellow for the joy
that lolling plops as often
as a midnight sun.
Let us gaze the world asunder.
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.
