The Host

Pain rearranged to turn deranged
pulling lumps of slithering loath
splatter at my feet
no head way
pulling more ever day
this numb is dumb
couldn't feel if i stepped into the sun
so unspecial
little was my most
think i am the ghost
raise your glass
make a toast
to all pains host
Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace