This Picture
the night sits
depleted,
forlorn of a light
deleted
from sight. touch
this darkness,
this lack of conscience
[slithering through
broken hands]
for how much our breath
demands,
corrosive words lash
out, rush forward
asserting their
shout.
ascertain
this picture
in which you pertain.
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.
