deepundergroundpoetry.com
Wounded
After a brutal clash with the Figure-head
my pride was left dangling
out of my moral body
like broken bones out of torn flesh;
White, but reddening
with every passing second
The pain sat there, seething,
calling for attention
But the only solace
was in the dead silence
my pride was left dangling
out of my moral body
like broken bones out of torn flesh;
White, but reddening
with every passing second
The pain sat there, seething,
calling for attention
But the only solace
was in the dead silence
Published 16th Sep 2014
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16th Sep 2014 2:58am
16th Sep 2014 10:35pm
17th Sep 2014 00:47am
