How long shall I gather
The trophies of my past
Joyously cursing myself
For failing to fail;
How long shall I pamper
The dusty mirror of hope
My hatred, my lust
Dripping with the tears now stale;
How long shall I lose
Victory, and win defeat
Dying, trying, crying
In this fearsome gale;
How long shall I survive
A living carcass
Brutally deprived of
The quiet of a grave...
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Salt And Ink
Poetry(#1 in Poetry 14th November 2015- 14th December 2015) (5th in What's Hot- Poetry, 20th January 2016) Cover picture- grunge (WeHeartIt) "Prepared thus to close, he raised his knife, Death came later; he was stabbed by life." When my ballpoint buckles...
