I tear my bones
To try and not
Hear the drones,
Drill in dot.
But soil so ill
Is where I tread.
Shriek when fill
Buddhist debts.
Behind the pillars
In cenotaphs,
Edge killers
Of my calfs
I bread bogged down.
So they would claim
The forest crown,
Clear my name.
Fear my ingrowns!
Alas, they rot,
Drink the drones,
Drill in dot.
Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 3:02 PM UTC
I tear my bones
To try and not
Hear the drones,
Drill in dot.
But soil so ill
Is where I tread.
Shriek when fill
Buddhist debts.
Behind the pillars
In cenotaphs,
Edge killers
Of my calfs
I bread bogged down.
So they would claim
The forest crown,
Clear my name.
Fear my ingrowns!
Alas, they rot,
Drink the drones,
Drill in dot.
Request permission to use this poem