Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2014
The rushing rapids of your voice hold my tongue paralyzed not knowing of what flood may overcome my rocky shore next
Your tenacious wave of petulance hosts my vessel jeering for the beacon so vibrant on the horizon
A storm this detrimental shall never cause the amount of convulsion inflicted on another but myself
For if that prove false the ocean of erroneous intentions within me will ruse your rapids into dissolution
Written by
Please log in to view and add comments on poems