WindingA Poem by BlackbirdChirpCigarette butts that sit, wrappers caked in dirt, evicted coins, These grounds I walk covered in s**t Demons around me, running fast, keeping pace, When they pass can you see my face? Branches of trees I’ll never climb, Will I make it there on this day? This time? Looking behind, seeing none that follow Where this path leads I do not know. The road grows narrow in time More and more feeling myself walk the line. Not knowing if the flowers were planted by life or death Or if these hollowed trees see my breath Blood on my brow Not looking too hot, am I now? © 2023 Blackbird |
Stats
77 Views
Added on September 25, 2023 Last Updated on December 6, 2023 AuthorBlackbirdCanadaAboutThey say to write what you know, so I guess I won't be saying all that much. more..Writing
|