Emotions, a toilet overflowing,
regurgitated, digested refuse
which we wish was not showing
Now a mess on the loose
Sewer of the soul
empties in a pipe's crust of rust
Unwanted debris in the bowl
thrust in a sour smell of must
To the silver tongue do not rush
its throat may still be stopped
if you flush there will only be a gush
over a floor you just have mopped
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Author:
sorenbarrett (
Offline) - Published: July 23rd, 2023 16:44
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments3
Clever write soren but my sewer was emptied a long time ago.
Andy
Thanks Andy for the review. Yes mine has been emptied as well.
And - in olden days they chucked it out of their windows to the street below. Poor people who were passing by just then! Yuk!
'To the silver tongue do not rush'
(each lie
we sale to ourselves, become
a corrosive taint on our souls)
Brilliant imagery, dear Poet
thank you!
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