Dec 30
Confined behind these words,
The serifs cut into their palms.
Shredding back their flesh,
Reducing the earning hands,
To clattering, liberated bones.
Their veins kept pumping,
Hanging limply against the bars,
As the authority lands a baton,
Against their bare digits.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry For The Found
PoetryThis is the 2nd part of my 365 observations and comments about society, life and love throughout 2022. Come with me on my journey day by day, as I write what I've always wanted to say. There is no method or planning, just thoughts and perceptions ab...
