better days

each breath
joins the next
yet…

i am a seed -burnt
thrown aside
guts torn out

and in secret
you gloat
at my ruin

to wither in concrete
my soiled mind
turnt bitter

what became
of us
and better days

jealous rage
and infernos beamed high
in soot -i cry

yet
each breath
joins the next

Photography Poetry

3 Comments Leave a comment

  1. find ya voice
    you always have a choice
    what did you teach her
    by your example
    sex as a weapon
    rich
    in all save
    the most important
    thing can you see yaself
    in your own mirror s image
    ha ! ha ! ha!

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