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The Penultimate Battle

It’s has always been easier to slay us

With your obedient insecurities

Cheerfully devoted to poetic doom

You speculate, create and anticipate

A wheel of fortune that spins in your tomb

Lashing and flaying against happiness

You claw and spit against the lid

Of exhausted insight and recognition

Crying out against comprehension

With a scream of lies and unravelling ties

The control becomes uncontrollable

An intense fear of not being saved

By my innocence that lies above

I suffocate your oxygen of misplaced sin

And try to breathe you a new beginning

just before you are buried alive


© Katypoetess 2013

lovelove poetry

◄ Nesting

Irish Sea ►


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Nigel Astell

Wed 3rd Apr 2013 15:11

Kiss of death
to those below
brings forth eternal
love of joy.

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