Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2011
fate is a cruel mistress
whose icy hand churns our stomachs
and poisons our minds at the flick of a finger
and whisper words of sadness and of dark memorys
that blacken the brightest lights
and in a language only she knows
she speaks,
an untimely end for us all
Steven Paul Klocke II
684
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems