Hear her moan
groan, hear her
Feel her shiver
quiver, feel her
See her weep
seep, see her
Mother
groans
seeps
quivers
moans
weeps
shivers
Can you smell the rot?
taste the blet?
She dies for our pain
our misery, she dies
Mother loves
but she dies
We're her agony
children often are
our errors are her sorrows
her throes
And one day we'll slit her throat
She'll return the favor
YOU ARE READING
Fallen Leaves
PoetryFrom time to time I dabble in poetry. Nothing too long or too complex, just little thoughts and passing impressions. Like autumnal leaves, they drift about my mind. Here are a few that have settled to the ground.
