Sunday, September 13, 2015

Tempest Brew- Three Poems


Marks

we are made
of 
the marks we
put on
each other
little
scars to slowly
tell 
our hidden truth


Measure of Control

he tried
to control everything
until it
became obvious
the world
was whirlwind
so he sat
down and scratched
himself
in ashes


Letting

in the old
days
to make you well
they
bled you out
which
explains it, I guess
all
these gossips
are 
just trying to help
me
 
 

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