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collin
Poems
Jan 2020
Golden Guilt
his screaming, dead, grey
cast iron eyes were strong
petrified by conjured up lies
bent over and built with bronze
burnt and glazed
like candle wax upon his own lips
everything grey was turned to
spent silver bullets
all the shell casings dropped into a hot tin
the last remaining platinum lips
the metals that still haunt him
iām a smith of my own demise.
Written by
collin
30/M/coming home.
(30/M/coming home.)
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82
Coralium
,
little lion
and
Aruna
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