Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2016
Inside that
cylindrical container,
a pseudo survival;
j u s t   a    little   m o r e   s e a s o n:
tongue the span of human nature,
take it out for a spin; like you own it,
stick a fork in it!
These eyes are vacant;
Death is home
now.
The Ripper
Written by
The Ripper  B'tween pen & paper
(B'tween pen & paper)   
299
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems