PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I hear people shout
And know why they scream
In horror they behold
What no man should ever see
They crawl back and forth
Wishing they had done
One less wrong thing
The heat it burns like the sun
Their regret it stings; like fangs sunk
Into the soles of their feat
They cry,
But their tears cannot reach their lips,
They have not drunk for at least a thousand years,
And they will never drink again—not at least, until, eternity ends.