The Sharp Land


Fighting through the blackness
Fighting for the light
Come this way for death and pain
You'll be left to die in hindsight
The viper strives to be the Desert God
The rabbit's on the run
The old hawk watches from above
The dead crow watches none
Death is sleep
Sleep is a flowing stream of blood
Watch the creatures creep
Swept up in the flood

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem