"aerrows" poems
She called me,
the King of her heart,
a Jack Rabbit,
Seneca of a legion
The angel of mercy with wings
propelling love letters from its bow
sharp like the Red Jacket in her chest
The ace in her heart and she
died many times before
casted aside
I'm the message in a bottle
to be found ashore...
a lost psalm
And although the tare of her brittle
hope to believe
that an angel of mercy
could enlighten her of this scar,
I'll be shooting aerrows to knees
collecting feathers in my palms
Killing soft melodies
Good or bad deeds
Perceptions of a woman
are no excuses.
No mercy for a man.
(INCREDIBLE INK- TEAM JAGUAR HAWAII)
© Copyright 2014 S.T. PARISH Rebel of Eden
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 4:39 PM UTC
**They called him,
the King of hearts, Jack Rabbit
Seneca of a legion
The angel of mercy with wings propelling love letters from its bow
sharp like the Red Jacket in my chest
The ace in my heart and I
died many times before
casted aside
I'm the message in a bottle
to be found ashore...
a lost psalm
And although the tare of my brittle hope to believe
that an angel of mercy could enlighten me of this scar,
I'll be shooting aerrows to knees collecting feathers in my palms
Killing soft melodies
Good or bad deeds
Perceptions of a woman
are no excuses.
No mercy for a man.
©MaddHatterQueen**
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 4:53 AM UTC