Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
She bleeds through veins that have been retrofitted for our future, A running methamphetamine that never tires and always keeps steady pulse, Excitedly, Beating, Torn blue jeans, pant legs rolled up into shorts, Slaving, It isn’t about me, It isn’t about me, Selfless smile, It isn’t about me. A **** hunch, quizzing over an unstained oak desk of etchings, First place to my second centered in the middle. A posture for quizzing- a leaning first grader. None greater. If she is overcast, there exists none grayer. But I dig deep and find a kaleidoscope, At that moment, I look at the light, It’s true, It isn’t about me.
0
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 5:22 PM UTC
This Prose Feels Like Pistons.
She bleeds through veins that have been retrofitted for our future, A running methamphetamine that never tires and always keeps steady pulse, Excitedly, Beating, Torn blue jeans, pant legs rolled up into shorts, Slaving, It isn’t about me, It isn’t about me, Selfless smile, It isn’t about me. A **** hunch, quizzing over an unstained oak desk of etchings, First place to my second centered in the middle. A posture for quizzing- a leaning first grader. None greater. If she is overcast, there exists none grayer. But I dig deep and find a kaleidoscope, At that moment, I look at the light, It’s true, It isn’t about me.
paul-james-valhalla-clear
Written by
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 5:22 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem