Poem -

Moth

author
Jesse Clark

A moth flies around and round a light; circling his own death.

It makes me think of flight and meth.

I stand and hold my heart in my hand...it continues to beat, so time moves on.

Fire burns, water is wet, wind blows, and ashtrays smell like death.

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Views: 
676
Rating:
Total votes: 0
Tags: 
Death Life Time
Poetry Genre: 
Drama
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