Metal and sleek,
Untamed,
No filter,
Engine turning,
And spitting out grim,
Yet left hollow inside.
Tin man shell,
No heart as well,
silver,
Undelivered,
Envy and pain,
A man made cadge.
Stop the spindle,
The madness,
The sin,
Breaks snap,
Movement cease.
Our journey stopped,
Before it begins.
YOU ARE READING
Shadows
PoetryLife is constantly weighed down by its past. Every breath, every action, leaves an imprint of the world. The question is wether our memories will bring shadows upon our path, or will we ever simply stand in the sunlight?
