Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
It is when the river calls, that the mountains crumble. In the halls of the scattered mind, the desolate man stumbles. Through the doorway of shattered hopes, the grim figure interlopes. For not even time can tell, when such a man will climb from hell.
0
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 11:58 AM UTC
The Escape
It is when the river calls, that the mountains crumble. In the halls of the scattered mind, the desolate man stumbles. Through the doorway of shattered hopes, the grim figure interlopes. For not even time can tell, when such a man will climb from hell.
Hallowed
Written by
21/M/American
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 11:58 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem