Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2020
That weapon
of mine you
confront with such
hateful hostility
is the only sword
sharp enough to
pierce your
inattentive armor -
You'd never
acknowledge
my existence
had I not been
swinging it.

And that
drunken bellow -
the only noise
louder than
the pushy,
productive voices
in your head.
I'm dying -
just like you.
And you, like me.
JA Perkins
Written by
JA Perkins  36/M/Right here
(36/M/Right here)   
89
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems