These few days pass,
Like an inch of a deadman's gasp,
Belittling feelings stirs in streams,
All coming through these deans,
Pleasure cleansing the grain of a bruise,
While the gory shadows lies in sync,
Stifling the incense of a tree,
Till all that's left is seams.
I want to thank God for giving me the Grace to write this.
One of my poets told me the poem was weird so, was it?
Anyway, thanks for reading.
YOU ARE READING
MY POEM COLLECTION
PoetryPoetry allows you to discover, And gives you the gift to recover, Giving you the wheel and compass, To venture through the bypass
