Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Harry Roberts Nov 2017
If I had pennies
For when Rage was
Misplaced

I'd have pounds,
But they'd burn to
At my fireplace.

When was there fair space
Just to despair
Grace.

I'll fall slowly and mould
Along the way,
I'm so cold I couldn't be
Strong anyway.

I lost pride
I'm dust in the
Place I used to reside.

These are the words
To empty air
I confide.
Seanathon Mar 2017
I will let the enamel rust
If that's what it takes
To remove
The enamored me
Southboud... The rhythm... Help me continue to count our.
Joy May 2016
her body rusting -
yes, they call me vagabond -
prisoned to wander.
May, 2016

— The End —