The upper realm of man
is filled with many things-
Some, beasts in burrowed sand
and whirlwinds wrath may bring,
Erosion on his face
reflects another being
For phantoms feast on hate-
once latched by lock and key,
His pregnant silence bears
a crippling weighted axe-
The upper realm awaits
to watch the weight collapse
YOU ARE READING
Fashionably Tired These Days
PoetryA poem book for those strange fellows in need of some comfort.
