i burn.
i feel all of them and their pain, i see their screams rising like unholy vapors.
i inhale.
trying to let my baser self fly, i reach into the heart of fire to know hurt, it is my friend. i know this now.
i learn. then all lessons are forgotten when the next hit comes.
why do i roll my soul in broken glass?
is it for decoration?
are you listening ?
nice makeup is it not? won't you wear the mask with me?
let's go
A contest entry
- Enter Your best. by Antebellum.
550 points, ended July 9, 169 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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is this a poem?
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definitely uncultured
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I like the end of this.
thanks for entering.
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