Hello PoetryVoting

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy WritingNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy WritingNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

apotheca

by IrelandU

i can't beat the clock. the hands of death, if hands at all, are linked to my limbs, in martyrdom. in fall, i smell lilies, like those we tossed into the ground with you. why are we buried closer to hell?
Request permission to use this poem
I
Written by
IrelandU
19
For You?
I
Written by
IrelandU
19
Published
Sep 10, 2018
Time
1m
Permission

Request to use this poem

Tell IrelandU how you would like to use it. We review requests before forwarding them.

AboutBlogFAQPrivacyTermsContact
© 2009-2026 Hello Poetry/v27.0 by @eliotyork
Explore
Hello PoetryVoting
Write