Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2018
Who knows where I’ll be headed
And who I’ll be after that
To my sole credit
I laid a man down on the tracks

I’m tired in my stare
Strides hurt a great deal
Nobody’s hired to care
Pride can’t afford a meal

If Consolation Day comes
I won’t know my way home
My tonsils are flayed
My lungs are made of stone
I’ll crow
Derrek Faraday
Written by
Derrek Faraday  19/M/A Heironymous Bosch
(19/M/A Heironymous Bosch)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems