The first plain


An island far away

Mothers chains reduce an ache to sand and sea

Wont you plant your feet

Raise my fleet,

Leaving the seas to my embrace




Sifting the skies

An unseen turn

Swallows the seas.

Wallowing in fiery cries

Watched by unburned eyes




A child is conceived   

Whilst never being born.

By his wrath and his alone

You shall meet the horn.

This is how it is and will be




  • Author: \'JoeWolf, (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: November 10th, 2018 01:43
  • Comment from author about the poem: im scared of this one, myself
  • Category: Special occasion
  • Views: 20
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