Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2019
the stitches in my thigh are
healing so now we can all shake hands
and watch the money
poor in. the bombs are not coming,
please come out from
under your desks, you are safe
now and if im being honest
the desks wouldn’t protect you
from the shrieks of a
war plane. they sound
like nothing you’ve
ever heard
a frequency you unlocked
just for this
particular pain. you can almost see
the sound pour into your ear drums
like a bartender mixing
the ***** and the cranberry.
it sounds like 6am
it sounds like the same song
over and over.
Written by
b  20/M/canada
(20/M/canada)   
247
     alex and b
Please log in to view and add comments on poems