Stop it
My legs feel poor in an unkind way
I don’t want to talk about anything
I don’t want to talk about anyone
Hoarseness will ingest lungs
Loss will be learnt from rot
I [will] have no eyes
I [will] have no tongue
I [will] have no heart
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