Stuffed Silence, Smoked As It Sank.
The questioning curls my hair again,
Till I'm as sweet as the devil
And why do the smallest things have to grab my wrists,
Whilst I'm trying to save a life?
Do the lies lie in the rollups?
The shaking and hospital beds failed me.
Watching you whilst taken aback
Keep eyes on me, that I don't take back.
It's funny;
This time tomorrow, resurrection will hang off my lips
Whereas you'll just hang.
And won't come back.
The smallest things can clog up our ears
And your tongue, cut up from the slip-out
Losing my battle, as you lose control.
The End
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
Stuffed Silence, Smoked As It Sank., which
was posted on Apr 23, 2011 by
Misfit.
This is a solo poem.
Some rights reserved.
This poem is filed under:
Free Verse, Philosophy / Moral
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