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Father Mars

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I chisel keys

Out of skeleton bone,

Father Mars, 

You are closer to us than all the stars.

I hang my fright

In the form of fragile

Frail, ill,

Impaled at will.

I'm ailing

Inhaling the still

Ensaring moments of caring until

I fare as well as the next man they kill.

.

 

 

 

The End
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Tad_Winslow You're currently reading the poem Father Mars, which was posted on Aug 22, 2009 by Tad_Winslow.

This is a collaborative poem.

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Just for Fun

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