so many I told you so

so many I told you so
crawling like hairy spiders
across a floor waiting
for a clear passage
en route to eternity
inside a broken clock

warriors of wanton
winds reeking of bleak death
days still turn in a glass
there is no more
day will end perception
there will be no more



Poetry by Bob
Read 698 times
Written on 2016-10-14 at 12:04

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Bibek The PoetBay support member heart!
Liked the shift of mood in the end. Lovely poem! :)
2016-10-15