Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
time tastes a lot like rotting flowers when your skin is made of clouded glass. breathing feels much like falling when you've tasted the outer limits of hell. laughter mimics broken bells when you've watched thousands of suns sink behind ever-growing mountains. burial plans begin just when you've begun to stand. humanity grows cancerous flowers in dying bones from the moment the human is born.
0
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 11:16 AM UTC
funerals
time tastes a lot like rotting flowers when your skin is made of clouded glass. breathing feels much like falling when you've tasted the outer limits of hell. laughter mimics broken bells when you've watched thousands of suns sink behind ever-growing mountains. burial plans begin just when you've begun to stand. humanity grows cancerous flowers in dying bones from the moment the human is born.
plathsi
Written by
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 11:16 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem