freedom
Come hither. Come far. Come to the place of freedom. Where it rains robins, such dead Bird bones jewellery. Pits in the white, a pocket of Marrow. I found all the stones on the Trail to a station, a walk I am taking, plodding Thud, thud. They are in my compartment The one under my shirt. The one under a sleeve of skin. Blood, blood everywhere.
The End
RATE THIS BRANCH!
Please login to rate this branch!
RATINGS BREAKDOWN
NO COMMENTS ABOUT THIS POEM Feed
No comments have been posted yet.
THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
freedom, which
was posted on Dec 7, 2008 by
Rahel.
This is a collaborative poem.
Some rights reserved.
This poem is filed under:
Uncategorized
POST A COMMENT
Wanna say something? Make yourself heard!
We reserve the right to delete spam, flames, or other nasty stuff.