Tried mine swings,
to harmoniously sing,
of sweeter things,
hopping
&
sailing up above carcasses by widespread wings;
though
-
mine head only dreams,
reaching so a peak, over wrenching scenes;
it's nothing like what mine heart carries,
chest slammed by unsympathetic fairies,
running...
tripping...
tipping,
all over bloody parts in an expired cemetery,
where time may encapsulate & dilute to mere slothy visionary.
YOU ARE READING
Between an Antidote & a Dreary Phase
PoetryMy second Edition of a variety of Poetry feelings. For all the support and encouragements you all share with me - I do humbly appreciate all that you say and do. The feeling I get when another writer comments, or votes is imperial to how I interr...
