I lick my wounds upon a pedestal
And cut away at my artwork
Slicing my hands on my divine daggers and on the finest sides
I've peered into the pain marked on the page and seen what will be mine
But no, I am not satisfied and I will kill to get my share.
By the time I've decided what this certain piece will represent
The menace mouths around me have dropped open and are giving their consent
Today the problem is that they think I don't know I am a servant
They see this as a trade deal, not a rarity, a ruler's raid.
In fourth dimension teardrops I have paid,
But I can blow a burden away too, just like a melted peach blossom
And I can become an immortal to punish your descendants
With the crumpled yellow remnants of your life I will make him hundreds just like me-
Straighten out your laughable lamentations and send fortune teller wildfire your way
And it will swallow you
I promise you,
You will bother me nevermore
Your debt will be accounted for.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
PoetryThis is a select few of the poems I've written over the past two years or so. They're not the best and the rhythms are all messed up. But you know idc about that anymore so Enjoy my endless train of thoughts.
