Forged of marble and desperation
Cool nights and iron picks
Harsh words and lobotomies on the heart
Smooth, chilled, like mountain stone
Large black dots like pantomime smiles
When promises were discarded
Wounds abandoned but not forgotten
The accused
All lined up
For a firing squad
And as one grows unsteady,
The rest come tumbling down.
YOU ARE READING
Poems, Stories, And Unorganized Messes
Short StoryShort stories, poems, snippets, scraps, scripts, and more...whatever I feel like writing. Kind of a dumpster where I just dump what I'm thinking, but it doesn't smell as bad. I hope. Copyright 2014 (c) by DiscardedOpus13 All rights reserved. No part...
