Tired of writing poems of love to someone who doesn't care? Me too! HB therapy...
Words spill out onto the page,
With pencilled hand I vent my rage.
A manic half demented raper,
Stabbing strokes, right through the paper.
Sharp upward lines, downward strokes.
Fingers stained from twenty smokes,
I crease my canvas as I write,
Lead pours spitting, seething spite.
Bitter reality fills this note.
You never read a word I wrote.
You have no clue, these lines I spew,
This poem was not written for you.
Poetry by Purple Phoenix
Read 494 times
Written on 2009-01-27 at 08:32
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Write and Wronged
Words spill out onto the page,
With pencilled hand I vent my rage.
A manic half demented raper,
Stabbing strokes, right through the paper.
Sharp upward lines, downward strokes.
Fingers stained from twenty smokes,
I crease my canvas as I write,
Lead pours spitting, seething spite.
Bitter reality fills this note.
You never read a word I wrote.
You have no clue, these lines I spew,
This poem was not written for you.
Poetry by Purple Phoenix
Read 494 times
Written on 2009-01-27 at 08:32
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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