"whestone" poems
I‘m a man they said
calm and composed
For when I speak these knives come out
cutting the air on its way
For my lips are the whestone
sharpening the blade these words are
whenever I speak my heart
For the pain I carry is the dark obsidian
forming the edge
where I would fall from
Dec 20, 2024
Dec 20, 2024 at 2:57 AM UTC