Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2012
I need to leave this place.

They call it hell sometimes

Or life.

Infinite. But I need more space

For creativity; some deadly crimes.

One knife.

Impossible. Our vomiting human race.

Bloodsucking; it slimes.

Our wife.

I need to rip my face.

Your poem never rhymes.

My strife.
Farida Ezzat
Written by
Farida Ezzat
447
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems