365 Days of Poetry — Day 149

It’s sopping and dead,
reeking with the inflation of innumerable heads.
It’s simply unable to serve,
crippled by the mind and the Body so perturbed.

It’s indefinitely weak,
a permanent smudge on the face of the meek.
It’s the ones who aren’t true,
patterned by weakness, detrimental, and skewed.

– Brittany Rose

2 thoughts on “365 Days of Poetry — Day 149

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