Does anyone know
Really
That the ends of life are….
Rattled with dried
Labors
Notes left to oneself
Be true
Good
Play dead.Suffer little children.
Tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow
Suffering into the light
Heal
The last time was so close.
I don't write what you want.
when I was young
Is a song.
I, however, a l …am a broken slab.
A well of drenched
marinade.
You could save me
Yet…you
Fold my poetry over
Into
Daylight’s
Hampers.
Wherein I lie.
Crimped
edges of a
Masterpiece
Caroline Shank
March 25, 2025
Mar 25, 2025
Mar 25, 2025 at 8:15 PM UTC
Does anyone know
Really
That the ends of life are….
Rattled with dried
Labors
Notes left to oneself
Be true
Good
Play dead.Suffer little children.
Tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow
Suffering into the light
Heal
The last time was so close.
I don't write what you want.
when I was young
Is a song.
I, however, a l …am a broken slab.
A well of drenched
marinade.
You could save me
Yet…you
Fold my poetry over
Into
Daylight’s
Hampers.
Wherein I lie.
Crimped
edges of a
Masterpiece
Caroline Shank
March 25, 2025
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