Clothed in hurt, lifted effort,
In the desert he has entered,
The third word he remembered,
But it was the last he heard,
After he was murdered,
Why am i here? He thought and stirred,
In hurt he was covered,
Where he was was absurd,
All he knew is that he suffered,
And not yet has discovered,
But still wonders,
Numbers after numbers,
WHERE AM I?
-
Author:
Kez (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 3rd, 2025 14:35
- Comment from author about the poem: More time messin' with rhyme.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 24
Offline)
Comments3
I think that is well crafted and clever in its lay out, enjoyed the read
it goood poemer
Thank you!
You are very welcome
A mysterious feeling prevades this poem and goes unanswered. Nicely done
Thank you Soren 🙂
Excellent.
thx
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