The brunt of me.
Ends up bursting and unsalvageable.
Maybe I have another pill in the corner of my mind.
Just churns into the slop.
And lets out a bellow.
Everything about depression.
Just teeters around in a crusty way.
But it is thorough.
Is loving as a centipede.
The brunt of me.
Doesn’t end, just creates spots in my eyes again.
Bursting and unsalvageable.
I had a plan to build a new mind out of blades of grass.
It stayed up longer than expected.
how could
do you have room to say?
the brunt has spoken.
how was and where were you
I was in some well known casa
glass room's of full ritual's sacrifice's and curses
in a perfect spot
only in one's taking part
taking the brunt
how could
how would you know
the right angles for a six three
on an St.Pual street
a saturated haunted house of baptism
how could
how would you know
do you have room to say?
how was it you could?
tonight i partake in the brunt
TAB's
if you get this in time take a shot for me.
the brunt.
"Plain women know more about men than beautiful ones do."
~Katherine Hepburn
For the fairest of them all
No facade is too tall
Masked before beauty
Motivated by booty
Brunt of a Hunt
Of some storms had to bare their brunt,
And down source of things start to hunt;
Everything gotten,
And spoiled rotten;
Trump ended up with what he does want.
Jim Horn
Wisps of somethingness or nothingness, who knows?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.