instincts had died:
they'd collapsed into ourselves
to unbury
like attic albums-
memories so long untouched.
now,
it's hard to stay thin,
thinking thoroughly
of ways to starve
into alluring &
attractive.
But once,
we unwillingly became bone,
the wilds weeded out
it's weakest.
unwillingly,
we died.
A contest entry
- The Ultimate Goal by N e a r.
20000 points, ended June 2, 2008, 946 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
I'm jealous of your poetry.
I try not to be, but I think I'm jealous of a lot of things.
For not having written in half a year I'd say this is pretty great, m'dear. I like the first half best.
xx
-
beautiful ending.
-
-
Thanks. It's going to take me awhile to get back to the way I was, but it's a start.
-
-
-
Adding your comment:
