Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2022
The muffled barks— craving sleep—
Stir weary eyes on sodden streets.
A desolate man on heavy feet,
With cigarette roll clenched between grey teeth,
Mumbles to himself in the dead of night:
" 'Tis three O'clock. I have lost my soul."
Words uttered through mist if truth be told.
Written by
Isaace
  652
   DogKeep and Christopher Elwell
Please log in to view and add comments on poems