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anthony-james-brandyPoems
The swallows that return Are limping when they fly The swallows that were burned Will limp 'til they die And when they visit me They pluck about my eyes, Aiming for my lips They miss them every time Defectively, I lost my vision So when I feel about the world Looking for miraculous mission I come up almost empty-handed My hands are full of blood instead Punctured from the sandbox trees That I thought were oaks of red. It was illusion and deception By now, The eyes should have healed The lips should have pecked The hands should have grasped Onto whatever is coming next That, too, is an illusion, a deception But I am too blind to know
0
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 9:16 PM UTC
plagiarized metaphors are all the rage these days
The swallows that return Are limping when they fly The swallows that were burned Will limp 'til they die And when they visit me They pluck about my eyes, Aiming for my lips They miss them every time Defectively, I lost my vision So when I feel about the world Looking for miraculous mission I come up almost empty-handed My hands are full of blood instead Punctured from the sandbox trees That I thought were oaks of red. It was illusion and deception By now, The eyes should have healed The lips should have pecked The hands should have grasped Onto whatever is coming next That, too, is an illusion, a deception But I am too blind to know
anthony-james-brandy
Written by
anthony-james-brandy
23/M/fl
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 9:16 PM UTC
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