Mechanical
As you force these
bullets down my throat,
despite my pleas,
the cold metal coat
melts and adheres
to my stomach walls:
an iron tomb for fears,
doubts, and all that appalls
from you, all those marred
and mean tendencies
which serve to make me hard
and tuned to harsher frequencies.
bullets down my throat,
despite my pleas,
the cold metal coat
melts and adheres
to my stomach walls:
an iron tomb for fears,
doubts, and all that appalls
from you, all those marred
and mean tendencies
which serve to make me hard
and tuned to harsher frequencies.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.