Bleeding times, ruthless measures,
All of that immense pressure,
Suffering in silence,
Commencing to the violence.
Laughing through the pain,
The patterns form a chain,
Through every storm, I change my tarp,
As my edges turn razor-sharp.
Power restored in my hands,
When i take on land,
An internal war,
Raging onshore.
Tied to their demands,
Drowned in sinking sands,
A puppet, a pawn,
But not for long.
A lost soul of hope,
Holding tight on this rope,
The wrath under my skin,
Will break generations of within.
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Author:
Cirawrites01 (
Offline)
- Published: February 9th, 2025 12:41
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: Cirawrites01
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