I wore
red to your funeral
a blister against
the stone grey sky
white snow and standard
black of mourning
and I lived in darkness
with the throbbing
of rain on tin
penetrating my sleep
disturbing my inner senses
leaving the impression
of being red
or maybe some
perception of defiled dignity
2 Reader Comments
i read a lot of bad poetry. this isn't such.
Defiled dignity is the best kind. I enjoyed.
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09/21/2009
09:49:09 PM