Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"I have a book" "I have a book with pages within its covers, I wrote your life on this page, Each one of you were only ever a one, Never more, never less, I scribed upon it your Birth, Life, Death Was inevitable in that moment, I took Notes before I wrote this, Homework was needed as I feed Myself into your life. "Hi I'm Paul, It was but a step to let myself in, A friend is trusted upon time, let close To life's Moment Beginning Breath That I took wasn't mine, but written on This dried page, red was the colour That was used, still warm from Your depleted carcass, no longer life. You were one of a few blessed Into eternity's words No room for error as only one page you had, Perfection inked on this dried page. "I have a book" "I have a book with pages within its covers, I will write this till the book is full, And though many fill this carcass of death, They live on in the brief descriptions of their Birth, Life, Passing They are recorded in red ink, the blood of Life now ceased flows on this page, I am writing a book of memoires Of live birthed, life lived and then death. "I licked the pages, "I know its wrong, "But they where salty like cracking pork, You will be immortal in these pages, But first is you last breath, can you see What I'm doing keeping your mundane Life breathing within the pages. Your flesh is the page, your blood the ink That tells the story beginning, middle, and your death.
0
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
My Book Of Memories
"I have a book" "I have a book with pages within its covers, I wrote your life on this page, Each one of you were only ever a one, Never more, never less, I scribed upon it your Birth, Life, Death Was inevitable in that moment, I took Notes before I wrote this, Homework was needed as I feed Myself into your life. "Hi I'm Paul, It was but a step to let myself in, A friend is trusted upon time, let close To life's Moment Beginning Breath That I took wasn't mine, but written on This dried page, red was the colour That was used, still warm from Your depleted carcass, no longer life. You were one of a few blessed Into eternity's words No room for error as only one page you had, Perfection inked on this dried page. "I have a book" "I have a book with pages within its covers, I will write this till the book is full, And though many fill this carcass of death, They live on in the brief descriptions of their Birth, Life, Passing They are recorded in red ink, the blood of Life now ceased flows on this page, I am writing a book of memoires Of live birthed, life lived and then death. "I licked the pages, "I know its wrong, "But they where salty like cracking pork, You will be immortal in these pages, But first is you last breath, can you see What I'm doing keeping your mundane Life breathing within the pages. Your flesh is the page, your blood the ink That tells the story beginning, middle, and your death.
poetic-t
Written by
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem