Pistachio Gift Note
There's no method to my madness,
no reason to my rhyme.
My heart is filled with sadness.
There's no solution to my crime.
Life is a campaign of attacks,
a sequence of living hells -
I hope that when my cover cracks,
you'll enjoy pistachios in shells.
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.
