Unclasped fingers shamelessly spill
Unspeakable secrets;
Unabashed stabs of passion breed
Unshakable regret.
Unleashed oceans of misery coax
Unwanted drops a-drippin
Unstoppable, unclean works of art
Unleashed from within.
Unsaid pleasure swallows up my soul
Unsaid guilt follows like;
Unappeasable flames inside me burn
Untainted heartstrings white.
Unsteady is the path of dips and climbs
Unbound joy follows sorrow,
Unlit lamps lie strewn at every step
Uncrowned kings of the morrow;
Unblest is my throbbing being, an
Unblinking stone of sin,
Unshaken, though is the fact that I'm
Much kinder than my kin.
Unfeasible, thus is naming this
Tangle of grief and glee
Untitled therefore is my life-
Untitled it will be.
YOU ARE READING
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...
