Have something urgent inside you? Doesn't have to be important to others, just yourself!

Burning, rolling, clasping,

from a cavernous hole, which

should slop wet with meat

and blood, pumping, aching

nothing flows but the fire

The beating now just echoes

of a ghost.  The people

fleeting, speaking all around

I could touch them if I try

but the distance overwhelmes

swallow tears, never cry

Just smile

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed