Twenty-Five Past Fourteen
The hypocrite speaks.
Using my own against me,
And we can't move on.
*
Off the list I fall,
Taking two others with me.
The Pit waits below.
*
My lungs' poisoned air,
Infect your delicacy.
Of course, you are right.
The End
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Author guidance for This poem
This is nothing new, but I've never tried to write poetry, so I thought a simple haiku would be the best place to start.I'll try to write one whenever I can, and I ask that you join in and write about how you feel, what you want, or what you can see. It's all good.
NOTE: Name each chapter the time that you begin writing. That's all I ask.
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You're currently reading a chapter in the poem
Fifty-Seven Past Five. This chapter
was posted on Oct 4, 2009 by
LairdTom.
This is a collaborative poem.
Some rights reserved.
This poem is filed under:
Just for Fun
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