deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Other Side

It is but the east  
that casts the first stone,
harsh,
first light, hit from the thrown
 
tis morning, but you're too soon
darkness begs to bleed in technicolor
to dream in an element of surprise
no pain that pierce the eye
 
I am the devil, you call
not your typical thrust
a wicked witch who left the west
here to steal your treasure
and your trust
 
now open, and see
the fear, the heat
the dying, left
inside of me
Written by JusTim_
Published
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