Poetry, Quill

My Poetry

Image may contain: indoor

The poison is falling off the blade of my pen,
It’s beautiful, the scrawl upon a dead body,
Wonder lies in the breath of a child,
As it climbs atop a tree, he finds paradise,
But this child is now a part of them,
He poisons his pages,
In the memory of someone he loved,
He paints a picture, not a thousand words,
Only three would satisfy his heart,
The poison is falling off the blade of my pen,
And it’s clearing my mind and my soul from within,
I want it, not desire it,
I need it, not require it,
My venom is out, it’s flowing from my pen,
My poetry, it opens me, such a beautiful sin. .

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *