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by
Eliot
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dread
Poems
Oct 2024
Untitled
Father, they don't have names,
Mother, is it their soul that I take,
is it mine, sister,
am I truly their brother.
what family have we,
us of the sorts with no further resort but to break,
I dance because I shake,
I bleed into a lake while beauty is my only sake.
How can it be, how can I seem, why can I dream,
but the stars are like birds afar, whose wings I just barely cannot make, their song, it seems fake.
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