deepundergroundpoetry.com
Her
We dug the scars into her
We spilt blood that stains her land
As we caused her seas to be salty
As we were the lightning that struck her sand
We made her glass, fragile and delicate
We formed her demons that stalk
And we carved the blade that pierced her
We are with her, although alone we walk
We made her entirety spin
We made her moon bleed red
As we aimed our gun forward
And pressed it against our own heads
And we are the cause of her blue skies
The reason her deserts are dry
The resentment in her mirror
As we are the imperfection that make her shy
We spilt blood that stains her land
As we caused her seas to be salty
As we were the lightning that struck her sand
We made her glass, fragile and delicate
We formed her demons that stalk
And we carved the blade that pierced her
We are with her, although alone we walk
We made her entirety spin
We made her moon bleed red
As we aimed our gun forward
And pressed it against our own heads
And we are the cause of her blue skies
The reason her deserts are dry
The resentment in her mirror
As we are the imperfection that make her shy
Published 14th May 2016
| Edited 15th May 2016
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14th May 2016 4:15pm
I believe if we let the politicians decide her fate( which unfortunately has been the case so far), the gun you've mentioned pressed against our own heads will keep firing not until we die(that'll surely happen after the first bullet) but till we erase the very existence of our heads. Very evocative and thought provoking ink.. loved this work!
Anonymous
- Edited 14th May 2016 5:09pm
14th May 2016 5:08pm
<< post removed >>
14th May 2016 7:27pm
Oh a beautiful write up full of a natural flow, that says "familiarity" Great job!
Anonymous
10th Jun 2016 8:59am
I will never give up on Her.
