Smog’s gray melancholy, whiffs of the dying day,
I brood, a morose musing mood in grim gloaming;
memories are taunting in staccato display,
withdrawn commiseration stirs pathos roaming.
Words weaponized wreaked cold-blooded frosted arrows,
hailed psyche pierced with valiant ‘I hate you!’ war cries;
road to your heart’s ransom forevermore narrows,
my matrimony’s unpredictable demise.
Susan Ashley
August 10, 2017
N/A
For Contest: Eight Word...
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