the floor part 1
Fallen to the floor and faded Wonder do I why I waited Sentimental and sedated Waited for her heart Sickened as the sorrow seeps Down my chapped and hapless cheeks For my dying eyes do weep Dripping in the dark Wasted, worn and ripped wide open Beaten, bruised and badly broken In a pool of drool, unspoken Muted, mangled art On my knees a noose I’m needing For I’m useless barely bleeding “Give me Death” I keep repeating For I’m ripped apart.....
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rosschandler
i write a very dark, metaphoric and literarily techincal style of poetry. i do not like poetry that is prose. i have written since 15.....i believe in grand topics such as death, love, god, cosmos.....i believe my poetry is rhythmic and lyrical and...
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