Crimson

I feel the glint 

The sparkle to the edge

Razor sharp, lancing through 

 

Penetration of the intended 

 

The verbal lancing of your boil

Of the festering puss

The discharge of your resentment 

 

The relief you have, I need too

 

Eyes  rage

Faces bloom, the crimson colour 

Of hate

 

We fail to negotiate 

 

Fists fly

Blood splatters

We both lose

 

to win does not matter 

◄ The seer

Three Senryu (I think) ►

Comments

DESMOND CHILDS

Wed 10th Apr 2019 05:53

Thanks Don, very much appreciate that you think it is.

All the best des

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Don Matthews

Tue 9th Apr 2019 22:56

Very good Desmond

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