Myths Of Centuries

Words would wear the blood caps.
In tyranny of the full moon,
the wound becomes bigger.

Mask after mask,
you will never find the
real face. The cannibalism
makes you sick.

I survived the branding.
O god, I will never
shame you. The virginity
was at stake in the hands
of angels.

You receive the bullet,
when glowers were thrown.
Violence has a price.
Brick by brick you make
the temple again.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem

This Poems Story

Myths Of Centuries