Photo by Ruben Christen on Unsplash
A bloated bag of bones was placed under the light
For me to identify, but mother sea gnaws faiths and faces
How could I know if I just stared?
A tiny cut below the bowels, a door to various humors
I dig my way through, ripping sutured futures
When hitting a wall, use teeth and hammers to break through the cage
To finally steal the beating fruit of my labour
A rotten heart to wear on a sleeve
Mine
About the Creator
Vili
Bitter patter
Comments (1)
Stunning. Need to read three times to appreciate