future site

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future site

dark storms razing at the edges of my mind
dripping acid rain thru my brain into my spine
underneath the grave you'll never know what you may find
if  you dig down deep enough all your love might have demised
with withering worms and maggots making mulch out of my eyes
only they will never hear the whispers of the lies
or the truth, the pain, the hurt that I hold inside
the remains of this pile of rot and dirt that I call I.
 
 

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Poetry comes nearer to vital truth than history.

Plato (BC 427-BC 347) Greek philosopher.

etherknot’s Poems (10)

Title Comments
Title Comments
future site 0
Transverse 0
Relapse 2
drama queen 0
untitled 0
Original thoughts 0
to my mother 1
not enough 0
Colours 0
huh 2

etherknot’s Friends (2)