It is a pity
that you try Jesus knows how many
times in your short lifespan
to hold onto the things the Sandman
would never even think of
stealing, because you love
everything that is yours and
everything that is mine.
But they crash and burn like the Kore
of spring, poppies bloom
and
bleed you do,
you ruin yourself, child
run from the ruins that were once
a civilisation started by none other than
you don't have anyone else to pin the
blame on, so flee the crime scene
before the dead martyrs
on Mars
grab at your ankles,
take flight before the seraph sets your
wings on fire.
Find titan and try again.
YOU ARE READING
Harlequin
Poetrycome indulge in voluminous daydreams and help yourself on raging tidal emotions. • poetry collection
