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Save Her.

Poetry.

By Alberta JadePublished 5 years ago 1 min read

Hot iron links burn through my skin like paper,

Smoke hugging my lungs too tight.

Angels unheard songs of nature,

Fear too close to take flight.

The sloppy jaws of fate come later,

Corrupted thoughts cloud my sight.

It feels too late for a saviour,

As the moon stretches over the night.

Soft, hazy visions, gone forever,

Lost flames I can’t ignite.

Boundless, lost, finger at the trigger,

The whispers take no respite.

Strained rusty buckets running over,

No passion driving any fight.

A steep fall for the dictator,

No match for her great height.

Sour juice from the fruits of labour,

Venom poured direct from spite.

Punctured hearts from twisted traitors,

Useless is my foresight.

Manoeuvres disguised as favours,

Lies exposed straight and outright,

No use in looking for indicators,

It’s too late to save her.

surreal poetry

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