Morning
Morning is a bright looking florescent
that unfold splashes of sultriness;
thrilling luminosity blewing off saturnine
incessantly each day you awake
to greet your pallid-cream face.
It shoot in succulents embrace
flurrying optimism and illusory hope
as fiery as your desires
just enough for a blade
to slash through depression
with unassailable sense.
Whilst to others
it's a suicide ice
& huge spectre
that will ruin
the gambles of their nights.
Copyright © Excel Chinagorom Michael | 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.
Please
Login
to post a comment