Luck
curses
at my youth
sorely for this:
fortune is blindly
wasted on savage kids,
unschooled but ready-to-rule
soulless brat packs, that unsubdued
will burn nature, spitting her ashes
like mad mountains exhale apocalypse.
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.