Drink the sorrows I gave
Years came back from the distance I gave
Take my hands wreak my havoc
The flower became brittle from the ever so touch of your darkening grace
Don’t take this for granted for I will be the poison to your veins
K.N
Drink the sorrows I gave
Years came back from the distance I gave
Take my hands wreak my havoc
The flower became brittle from the ever so touch of your darkening grace
Don’t take this for granted for I will be the poison to your veins
K.N
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Comments1
'Take
my hands
wreak
my havoc.
The flower, became brittle
from the ever-so touch
of your darkening, grace'
if you have time
please lookup the deplorable origins
of the word/term cry 'havoc',
to its origins
beyond, Shakespeare's use...
then realise
just how much insight
your words showcase, in this
brief write of acute awareness
of self and other's..
(if you already know
then you'll hopefully recognise
what a triumph of self worth
you've penned here)
thanks for sharing, dear Poet
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