The warm soothing feeling
Of whisky laden blood
A numb fuzzy sentiment
Who bothers about the flood?
He drowned, you know
It was his fate
No saviour around
No-one at his gate
Waiting to wave a friendly hello
No-one as his cornerstone
Just the taste of vomit from below.
The warm soothing feeling
Of a laden missile scud
A numb emotionless feeling
Drained of all lifeblood.
Thank you, Po. You are always very kind.
Thank you, Brian.
<Deleted User> (18980)
Tue 23rd Jun 2020 10:30
The rhyming drew me in Jon. Good piece.
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Jon Stainsby
Wed 24th Jun 2020 07:58
Thanks, Tom