Truth be told,
You bore me
with these inane whinings
of a small,
but bitter child.
Nothing would make me happier
than to watch
your lips clamp shut,
capturing your hallow complaints inside.
the engine is running,
and the clock is ticking,
and I’m only here for one thing.
Author notes
foggy windows.
A contest entry
- and oh, we're all such lovely skeletons by primal-things.
400 points, ends December 13, 8 entries
• next poem in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest
Comments
-
this is excellent. I love where you took the prompt. Very creepy, but in an extemely good way.
Best of luck.
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