Poetry Blogs (Ashes of a Phoenix)
Looking towards my hands,
I feel them mutter a tone,
Of disdain and sadness,
Dirty and pale, bleeding out from within.
The colors of the honeycomb which is my life,
Building in a way to demonstrate the failures and flaws of my being,
To make it simply this: I feel trapped.
Trapped between the Rock and the grass of an ever developing future,
One, of course, that I ...
Monday 5th June 2017 5:57 pm