PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

There’s something I need to get off my chest, a simple matter of laying peace to rest, for you you’ll rest easy and sleep so sound, for me its starvation and the shattered crown. Your pedal stool will burn, burn so pretty it will. Scribble them out, but do bring their head, set em on top the throne, now yell out what you want said. We speak loud, even now said the dead. Granted you gave us the best seats to over look you when the tower falls and you meet you lonely end.

Mother, if I may.
You sealed the room.
It caught fire.
Saint you say?

Sitting high above, where you wanted, We watched.
You build your home that you never thought would become a grave. Minds eye unfolds the tale that wished not to be sung.
Let the fire stay.
And embrace things to come.
A cleansing.
Believe in me I say, like you said to me.
Ashes to ashes we were all suppose to fall. Some of the bridges fell but we hung high eating her ashes, wearing our pieced together crown.