Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
flickered souls
who mourn at night
accumulate to swallow

shredded strings
battered snare
these months
weren’t easy,
tonight is

watch sorrow
and morph into
rivers of

we are
a sacred congregation
in blasphemous glory
all good things
come in

forget the man
the lies
and cry
i always wanna die

long for nothing
crave it all
is this how it feels?
to be young?
I went to a 1975 gig and it was life-changing ok
  Mar 2 Andrew Watson
Poetic T
I thought you were my
                       lemonade stand.

But with every sip,
   I knew that you were

bitter upon my every taste..

And I asked for my dollar back.

You told me,

that with every lemon there
                is always pips.

but that every taste is different.
hold me
in the dead of night
when no one else will

wear me
a rusted red bangle
choke my freedom

spare me
when angels are around
consume me when
they fly

float from
the mouths of those
who say they
love me

i trust no other voice
but your shrieking

they tell me they
love me
they tell me
you tell me
tell me
love me
a poem about needing constant reassurance - and how loneliness can make you doubt the legitimacy of even those who love you the most

— The End —