Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2012
Fire and Brimstone
My words go off
With frag grenades,
A molotov cocktail
In every phrase.
Fuses lit and burning
Towards the bomb,
Anarchy's dumb
But so much fun.
Catch fire and go with it
Burn the grass
Under foot and don't
Look back cause
What's burned can't
Be fixed and doesn't
matter anymore.
Move with it
Flow with it
In a heated dance
And don't stop till
You're ash and cinders
and then, at the end
Pause, rest and smile.
Burned and out of breath
James Banks Worsham
Written by
James Banks Worsham  34/M/NYC
(34/M/NYC)   
642
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems