The Mysterious Priest (Short Poem)A Poem by Not hereSmile with those reddened bones. Fingers all dried up like scones. Wrinkles wrap your warty frame. Your mind believes it's a game. Try to breathe and take a breath. Every ticking-tock of death. Nobody can hide from time's everlasting, deep wind chimes. So much noise, so many toys. We're all bloody-knuckle boys. Darkness creeps into your flesh. With your scraping it will mesh. Dried skin, dead skin, under nails. Wagging, ruffled doggies' tails. Grab them, row them, blend them too. Questions have no answers for you. Questions have no help. For. You.
© 2016 Not hereAuthor's Note
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7 Reviews Added on May 20, 2016 Last Updated on June 6, 2016 Author
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