Time sweeps by
but i,
cant do much.
They spot me
from a distance far
as I;
contemplate, they grin
not at me
-they die
I grow restless
as i,
cant do much.
Monstrosity flies past
It squeals by
as I,
stand just watching
the wasteland
for I,
cant do much.
Craters of limbs
my land accommodates
crusted, headless bodies too,
what were once lush
accommodate.
And I
cant do much
but cry
-massacre!
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Wrote what i felt like
Super Mario
2 comments:
your work is good but i have an issue.
there's a negative element in most of of your poetry... why?
btw, try prose too. you're good at it.
keep posting :-)
influence of preaching so much metal....
...plus i figured that every one writes about blossoming flowers and noone cares about the life of it after it withers away.... innitially i used to write macabra intentionally, but now it just comes on its own....
.....or maybe i need mental help
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