Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2013
Careless head
filled with oblivion
and red.
Sun and snow
feel the same.
If I could only know
things are just things.
Bread and butter
fly wings
feel the same.
If I could only know
how to strangle
and untangle
my bleached skull.
Ann Beaver
Written by
Ann Beaver
432
   JL
Please log in to view and add comments on poems