Poetic Wall Flowers

If I could roll my words in tightened balls and throw them then, against the critiques walls some might stick while all the others fall like drunkards, stagger home after last call to greet the rising sun with swollen eyes scratch upon a napkin despair’s lies folded in a pocket o’er my heart the musings of a fool and midnight’s tart. Oh God, this heaven, darker than its hell, unwoven words their silence yet to tell curse the day the scattered words were found condemned by courts whose words were never bound. And so I roll these words in tightened balls and throw them still against the critiques walls. ©4/24/2018 submitted to – LATE APRIL STANDARD CONTEST sponsor – Brian Strand