A/N A passing thought I inked down ! ( Not a poem of sorts )
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The world as I know it,
is reduced, to wisps of smoke,
that surely accrue,
endeavoring for carte blanche,
from my very zenith,
from the recesses of my draconian psyche,
Eyeing me with such disdain,
while I writhe in self inflicted pain.
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Some of my work might seem to be implying something but please do not take the words at face value.
Comment down below. Share your own midnight thoughts.
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Wordalmania
Poésie#14 on 8 March 2017 Poetry, Prose. Words bled from the very soul. Musings of an occasional poetess. 'Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words. It is an abstract art, and I am, but a mere artist ' - Edgar Allan Poe ©wordalmaniac 2016
