959595

959595

A Poem by Wraith.

silver streams, slivers of who i used to be
coiling and frothing against arcs of skin
Grey and black light clawed out beneath 
the storms rolled over til I couldn't see
Chastise, solace comes not to those who grieve
Working your way around blindly
I'm faced with veiled idols whose orifices bleed
White empty heads lined up in a row
You didn't tell me there would be nowhere to go
so breaking away from a black flaking door

© 2014 Wraith.


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Added on December 9, 2014
Last Updated on December 9, 2014

Author

Wraith.
Wraith.

warwickshire, United Kingdom



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