Hence
Plumes from wings, silence ripped,
the scythe defeated
where souls consent.
Where comes an echo
are thoughts not gripped
and effigy seems
where pillars meant
is solace never
whipped.
the scythe defeated
where souls consent.
Where comes an echo
are thoughts not gripped
and effigy seems
where pillars meant
is solace never
whipped.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.