deepundergroundpoetry.com
Paper Tower
The blindness of my outlooks
Can you not smell the burnt stares?
The broken grasps of understanding
Can you not smell the cauterized fingertips?
The unwelcome passions becoming a lesson
Can you not smell the enflamed heart?
The slow death of every breath
Can you not smell the charcoal lungs?
Everything burns in my stead.
Published 25th Aug 2021
Author's Note
Reflecting on a dark place...those shadows still stretch across me from time to time but i try in effort to be more positive
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