Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2016
Its a whimper
Inside my ears
Trickling rivers of blood.

As softness carelessly
Cold begins asking
Demons--
From pandemonia

For mistakes-
We-the-broken
Played with
Ribcages as children.

We were as bread.
L T Winter
Written by
L T Winter  M/United Kingdom
(M/United Kingdom)   
226
   ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems