What's On the Calendar
I thought here
bottom of the filthy world
there was where to give impetus
climb back and live
but the floor is foggy
this ground is made of nothing
someone screams in the apartments
because they always have
another bitter word for you
but I see multiplied
with my broken glasses
and almost toothless
I chew different feelings
inside I sweeten tears
caress the deformed ego
the soft hands
carving false realities
that in some other december
they will also turn against me
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.
