Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2013
There was a listless poison that lingered in the air
And it softly rested its laurels on my shoulders
And as the day passed on, its hand reached for my lungs
And as the night reached its end, the poison dipped its foot in my everything

As my flesh started to wilt
And my body attempted to end
I asked a simple question, "Why?"

But should it have been a statement?
A thank you?
Should we not always be thankful?
M Clement
Written by
M Clement  Oregon
(Oregon)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems