Mirrors That Listen
Insist I didn’t exist bad to exit the mad, exhibit all that I ever had so cryptic & sad.
Delicate flesh sensitive to the touch, I wasn’t
relevant enough to digest the dust.
Beckoning my heart in sorrow begins, apart & reckoning tomorrow it ends
In tears that mention my afflictions, to the Mirrors That Listen to my addictions.
Copyright © Roger Byrd | Year Posted 2022
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