Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2019
The Jackal was Screaming for Me even though I could not hear Him I knew I heard His oppression roaming with every dead that posed as a glimpse to His Heir for when can I hace a sip of His blood with a convincing brow onlys to be crossed whit evenry turn He made for the canister was always full of unquenched fruition to the blasted came one home that it would rest persistence roars with one snarl contemplating that it had to be the only way for no Man can pass Me and My guards that ran drunk jealousy drive for the night just started and the day would never show you as Chief but tonight Youre at best when You are swept by Her calls to hear Her voice over the brags of your unconfessed confused bire to know the scene
Written by
Pricers  39/M/San Diego
(39/M/San Diego)   
175
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems