you tear the pillows, violent kneading
whipping thy stallion, neighing
we were tortured souls-
tortured where we stood;
tortured at turns we never took.
.
the signs on the roads we drove;
were all wrong
solving-
lengthy crosswords on my chest
only to fail to add two twos-
you have made me laugh.
.
for once I had hopes;
you would let my voice make a stand.
only for once-
to face your thrashing hand.
.
the pieces on the board,
reshuffled-
for we are tortured souls;
perpetuated in this filth
over and over again.
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Mirror Of Me | Poetry ✔
Poetry[a poetry collection] a dance to the fleeting emotions, notes to the music of life, a story of everything felt and told yet still, so many stories; so very untold. Of nights spent in solace of people so much more. Rankings: 🥇#poetry...
