Another poem I managed to write today. I'm on a roll!
Frost, Spark and Axe
We are but sheep
Following the shepheard of convention,
In the paddock of society.
Ever fearing
Frost,
Spark
and
Axe.
We are but martyrs,
We are but prisoners,
We are but soldiers,
Ever fearing
Frost,
Spark
and
Axe.
I am but a woman,
I am but a girl,
I am but a person,
Ever fearing
Frost,
Spark
and
Axe.
1 comment:
Three powerful fears.
Like the sheep, we humans cuddle up together and get close.
Against heat, cold and violence.
If the axe is made out of flint, of steel...
(And this one started from a Brain Fart. Well distilled, with symbol and image).
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