brandon k f

Slow Death

Out of the eater, something to eat
The wild woods are full of flowers
Out of the strong, something sweet
The garden damp with April showers

A reflection cast, an emerald green
And dazed because amphetamine
Drunken woe, I’m cast below
I stand in front, but barely seen

Barley stalks, as large as towers
But strangled there, amongst the weeds
A maze to wander many hours
Cutting roots, the garden bleeds

I miss my father and my mother
For those that love, there is no other
Spread askew, and severed through
A prodigal son, with hope to smother

Wretched hands, there for clawing
A pool of null is where I’ll go
For light, and love, you’ll hear me calling
Until that day, I’m dying slow

Comments3

  • Christina8

    This is really good. You convey your feelings well through your poetry!

  • Audax

    I really love the way you rhyme your poem in such an amazing way. Please check out some of my work.

  • MaddieJ

    Your word flow is on point! Thanks for posting. This was a great read.



To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.