The Wrong Sword
i like isms does that make me prism
mirror ages as vape pours
humorous ditties
son raise dues
rise son
reflect on your actions
burden songs
Vacuum me's
Pace with twisted guts
clowns hit the ground with a thud
in the shade oh
tied in knots or nots
frothing from the lips corners
Copyright © Christopher Quigley | Year Posted 2021
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