Whose voice sledge down
the vocal chord
A wild babbling
Breaks forth
from an ocean cliff
Whose skin
I shed
In every cycle of my birth
Moulting
every inexplicable moments
Whose lessons
I breath to live, and
depart
with my every tomb
Whose hands
keeps a flail
threshing the earthy grain
from the dried husk
The quandary
I found myself into, was
an opening of my vocal chord
Taking alignment
To my violent surge
No comments:
Post a Comment