A tear at the seams
Where the damned had broke lose
And broken the glass grass lands,
The towers of meatless fruition
That stood on unripened ground
And rotting consciousness drowning in unsound sounding a warning
of tolls tolling
The lilies sprouts on the eyes
Innocence that lost touch of demise
A tear at the seams
A breaking of the unbreakable
The moon smelled of red and blue with a
Hint of mint with a green tint.
Holding the chains of yesterday
It smiled when
The fall had risen
When the ashes
Where pieced
When the seams were torn.
YOU ARE READING
Labyrinth
PuisiPoems I made during quarantine. A poem compilation about eating, sleeping and other things. I don't know what I have created. Read at your own risk.
