Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2018
Nil
They walk around
With blood pouring from their chests
And a spoon in hand to lap it back up,
But it's never enough.
After all, how could they be satisfied,
When their hearts lay on the ground

Charred and misshapen;
Sacrificed,
To the god of nothing.
Hadrian Veska
Written by
Hadrian Veska
83
   Hadrian Veska
Please log in to view and add comments on poems