When the decay
Beneath the skin,
Finally eats away
All the beauty
That is beyond me,
Beyond you.
When the sand has run
Through the fingers,
Fallen through the cracks
In the hourglass.
All that could be done
Is done.
YOU ARE READING
Scribblings
PoetryWords arranged in a funny order. Poems about my view of reality and how my inner fantasy world colours it with strange tinges. I love discussions about concepts and ideas so please feel free to comment. © 2018 Brian Lynch
