Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Dilapidated, I hang on the precipice of perdition. My lacerated synapses, struggle to usurp the assailant who created my beautiful crimson demise. I'm weary of being ostensibly content, with all of this malice and prating that enshrouds me. Lets not mask this with useless euphemism. I'll make this as equivocal as I can. Its time for this dalliance to end. Its time I end my diminutive existence.
0
Dec 22, 2011
Dec 22, 2011 at 11:49 PM UTC
Fatal Presage
Dilapidated, I hang on the precipice of perdition. My lacerated synapses, struggle to usurp the assailant who created my beautiful crimson demise. I'm weary of being ostensibly content, with all of this malice and prating that enshrouds me. Lets not mask this with useless euphemism. I'll make this as equivocal as I can. Its time for this dalliance to end. Its time I end my diminutive existence.
alicia-strong
Written by
Dec 22, 2011
Dec 22, 2011 at 11:49 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem