I sit not alone
On empty thrones
For inside this head
A voice of dread
That lingers
And hinders
Like twisted fingers
A choir of broken singers
I've tried to stich
This unbearable itch
But inside this mind
A voice I find
That remembers
And dismembers
Remembers
Last December
Every ache
And heartbreak
Every date
For it's own sake
To Critique, To critique
Each blemish unique
To ridicule
Like I'm the fool
I truly did, love you
-
Author:
Marcellus Augustus (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 22nd, 2023 16:10
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 4
Offline)
Comments2
I read this twice but although I appreciate the word play and the rhyme the message is not clear
beautiful!
our best poetry is written in crimson ink..
thank you for choosing to share
these words of yours will help heal
many a shattered heart, dear poet
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