Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
The sky rips through itself with ease. Self-destruction is an art form when you are nothing but constellations and wonder. Black holes tear through the fabric of the universe and celestial hands reach through them, scratching at God's flesh. Stellar voices echo through these pits of imbibe asking it's creator one question: "why?" Fistfuls of stars thrown into the jarring teeth of inferno; a flame that feuls more fire. Planets are crushed under gravity's legs, and, like a child unsatisfied with a drawing, the space between galaxies crumples like paper. Tired of being a feast for human eyes, and being Poked, Proded, and Penetrated by People God's first and best creation consumes itself whole to satisfy the hunger.
0
Sep 5, 2022
Sep 5, 2022 at 9:55 AM UTC
Hunger 2
The sky rips through itself with ease. Self-destruction is an art form when you are nothing but constellations and wonder. Black holes tear through the fabric of the universe and celestial hands reach through them, scratching at God's flesh. Stellar voices echo through these pits of imbibe asking it's creator one question: "why?" Fistfuls of stars thrown into the jarring teeth of inferno; a flame that feuls more fire. Planets are crushed under gravity's legs, and, like a child unsatisfied with a drawing, the space between galaxies crumples like paper. Tired of being a feast for human eyes, and being Poked, Proded, and Penetrated by People God's first and best creation consumes itself whole to satisfy the hunger.
I have been thinking a lot about black holes lately and how they destroy the very thing that created them. Maybe they are God's failsafe.
Serendipity16
Written by
23/Florida
Sep 5, 2022
Sep 5, 2022 at 9:55 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem