Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
One,Two, Three, Four Broken lines patterned upon a wounded arm Made whole by a sharpened razor Five,Six,Seven,Eight Each frantic movement of a grotesque dance Made but an act of morbid comedy Nine,Ten,Eleven,Twelve And it stops, As the white curtains hide their guise Hoping....to never go through it again
0
Apr 17, 2019
Apr 17, 2019 at 3:39 PM UTC
Midsummer Mornings Nightmare
One,Two, Three, Four Broken lines patterned upon a wounded arm Made whole by a sharpened razor Five,Six,Seven,Eight Each frantic movement of a grotesque dance Made but an act of morbid comedy Nine,Ten,Eleven,Twelve And it stops, As the white curtains hide their guise Hoping....to never go through it again
A memory of what was, what shouldn’t have, and A hope that noone else has to face. And if they do, Something I hope someone the strength to overcome it
Written by
Apr 17, 2019
Apr 17, 2019 at 3:39 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem