Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
TemporalFuguePoems
Who am I, too write? picking up the holy pen scattering words, demonically some literary, sin Surrounded, and out gunned talent, reigns supreme cowering in shadow, dark poetic, is the dream Each scrawl, blood from sword each quatrain, an open wound loathing every writ, and thought all questioned, and impugned The pains of art, not often seen product talks, for all gleaning what the artist means as epiphany a fore the fall
0
Dec 21, 2017
Dec 21, 2017 at 7:59 AM UTC
Mea Culpa
Who am I, too write? picking up the holy pen scattering words, demonically some literary, sin Surrounded, and out gunned talent, reigns supreme cowering in shadow, dark poetic, is the dream Each scrawl, blood from sword each quatrain, an open wound loathing every writ, and thought all questioned, and impugned The pains of art, not often seen product talks, for all gleaning what the artist means as epiphany a fore the fall
Still dark ;/ But brightening :D
#poetry#pen#whoami
TemporalFugue
Written by
TemporalFugue
64/M
Dec 21, 2017
Dec 21, 2017 at 7:59 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem