my poem, for english, is it good?
dark drips from the rims around thee
i wonder what gods wrath be
on the hour of my creation
my sight with eye blurred
by thee vision for death
my minds works trap in
my prolonging need
for what others despise
the stained tiles replace
my memories lost
for the grim and filth
of long ago
why must it come
down from life’s dawn
to last hour how I
believe that all
here are lost in trapped
doors of solitude
not opening to show
them the world
around thee
now cried out tears
shed from those
opening to the
reality of there
grim fate sensing
the truth of the
world not seen
not longer is hiding be-hide
that door so accustomed
by an option
life will start its toll of terror
starting by the innocent
working up by
the gruesome fact
of the forgotten
as the world dimes
the dark
regains and
the past relives
these forgotten
nightmares
have never gone
away in
my dreams
for lost
centuries
I have lived my toll
for all thee
feared of
this new
world of
all I have to say
your turn
This open post was written 1 year, 7 months ago | V/U/S: 192, 4, 5 | Edit Post | Leave a reply | Report Post
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