You walk with grace and a morbid step like you're the king of the world, as if everyone would kiss you're putrid feet and worship you.
The grotesque smile that you wear on you're marfil lips it's stretching and tainting all you're God like features.
You always look to the front, never sides. A bare glance I receive at times, but they were the most disgusting ones.
I never saw you as a king, my king. The world was never spinning around you're thick head. No one ever kissed you're feet or worshiped you.
Oh hail to the king! My king!
As you lay on the bottomless pit, no, you fall. And time reminds you of the time you've lost looking to the front. Always front, my king.
By: Paulina E. Mojica Narváez
October 7,2013
YOU ARE READING
Three souls of mine
PoetrySo I'm basically writing this sort of poems based on my emotions and daily life. To help some of the readers understand what they are feeling. If any of you need advices or anything don't mind to ask.
