Untitled
It's clear as an empty whiskey jar
I have changed many forms
I woke up just to take in
Someone else's breath to carry me
Through the lengthy wait and preceeding reputation
And though I am angry, hateful
I can feel things like no one else
It taunts me with a wicked laughter
It breaks me with a dreadful reminder
That I am not yet dead and not yet loved
Copyright © Charles Grisham | Year Posted 2005
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment