RotA Poem by chrisOn additionRot That deep-rooted
habit, Claims me as it’s own D-d-d-damning, grit Grinding, decaying man
of stone Who wanders and
wonders. “Nothing is written in
blood Or stars. Liar, liar The mirror-man taunts He pours rain on the
fire Of trust and patience Losing sleep? I never
found her. The cut informs me
“You’re human.” Indignant tears, I am
a butcher Who chops off his own
hands with a defiant smile? There is no ointment
for this fly But he is stuck
nevertheless The garrotte that rots Enable/Disable so
priceless That, that is what destroys this enlarged mutant boy. © 2011 chris |
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1 Review Added on June 1, 2011 Last Updated on June 1, 2011 AuthorchrisPorto, PortugalAboutI am currently teaching English and ToK (Philosophy) at an international school. I have done professional acting and I am creative within music, writing and acting. I have started to write a young adu.. more..Writing
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