Poem -
bitter
the clock strikes
at the sound of my rage
i beg solitude
scream over my demons!!
shatter the fucking glass
sands quickened
pulse blaring
finger to the mouth
shhhhh
these eyes are bleeding
gums waning
i have bitten
the hand that kept me fed
and i can bleed no more
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Comments
We are told to never bite the hand that feeds us.
However, I don't believe I ever received that memo.
Nice writing, Theresa.
Dark, effective & stirring contemporary free style poetry.
~Dean Kuch ☠️