Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2020
Be it this
Horror
I hold around my
Waist

Or that
Pleasure
That I hold around my
Heart

Proves pain
And pleasure
Are nothing but
Reminders

Of life
Of life
And its measures
Of propensity

If pain
Or pleasure sways
Rather
Than guide
To one's own discovery

We will be but mechanisms
Of mechanisms
Of mechanisms

Who hath no name.
Written by
Mitchell
Please log in to view and add comments on poems