My Plague
I am in a ditch, i wear many, rotten stitches to a dress - My shadow is my skirt, my soul i want to slaughter in the dirt - She will never see, the gates, not even of hell - There will be no stories to t6ll, not close to where she fell to wall her fall - As i rip the tree from her bark, what pours from her wounds, smells the dead to a dog - I will never render, to surrender, my plague, to death or the gods.
poem by Unic Cjonr
Added by Poetry Lover
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