Good afternoon, all. I’ve got a nice little poem for you today. Wrote it a couple weeks ago. I’ve not found things to be improving, only disproving and dealigning. Perhaps you’ll find some meaning in my little works. Without further, please enjoy.
Dead To Rights
Crumbling towers of marble and granite
turn to dust with those who plan it
on the eve of my dying planet.
Set there by the edge of the world,
finding now it’s been unfurled.
There is a canvas coated in blood
that showed the coming of the flood.
No one listened
to those words
that ooze like mud.
This world is dead
with hardly a word left to be said.
Poems by Sam 