Slowly with a stumble
with stained and bloody brow
I drag this final ember
Inside an ashen bough
and though the waste is endless
and though I've long been blind
I'll sing the praise of fire
'till naught is left to find.
-
Author:
Quemis (
Offline) - Published: March 3rd, 2020 18:17
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 26
Offline)
Comments1
This has the basis of an epic story! Wow. Unpack this please. I'm very intrigued.
Unpack as in write more, or give context??
Write more... I feel like there's more to this story. The visual your poem creates is brilliant!
: ) - might just do that.
Keep an eye out. : P
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.