Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2023
Tender flesh, pale & thin;
Cigarette burns pock cratered skin.
Entrails that entail, poison foretaste.
Hidden, not much to be read, that
Of false smiles, on a plaster face.
The cancer within,
Almost at its brim,
Building to the self-consumption
Surely bound to take it's place.
Written by
Man  23
(23)   
  927
   ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems