I try
to understand
to know
to comprehend
the hatred,
the cold.
the strangely foreign
the ferocity
the ice
yet its been there before
the hatred
the cold
it pumps through my pulsing veins
the lunacy
the frustration
It fuels my eyes' frosty light
the hatred
the cold
It's in my bent, morbid demeanor
the hatred
the cold
the adoration
the passion
the twisted love of mine
YOU ARE READING
Swept Ashore
PoetryBe swept away in the ocean of poetry, wash ashore in a sanctuary of words, a place where you will be safe from the harsh world of sanity, catch a breath of the sea breezy air, twinged with the insanity that only writers know.
