Poison

Wackyheartache4

Misadventures of men lost in sorrow

Distance them, solace is merely borrowed.

Instances can forever change tomorrow,

Circumstances so instantly bestow.

 

Drowning one's misery in poisonous sin

Crowning the son with omens of chagrin.

Downing each drop from the bottle within,

Browning the crop, one can not ever win.

 

Missed advantages, in a refuse pile swept.

Missed advances, the recluse has often kept.

 

Sickly cirrhosis eats away the pain

Quickly foregoes cares concerning the chains.

Sticky solutions surely set the stain.

Will any miss one, shutting

off their brain?

  • Author: Drewseph (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: June 11th, 2023 00:45
  • Comment from author about the poem: A semi-educated stumble through strict iambic pentameter... Not sure if my syllable stressing is in order.
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 7
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Comments +

Comments1

  • 2781

    Certainly flows well, and leaves a question.



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