Worm

Little head, little brain.
Tactless, impulsive.
You spilled the rancid milk.
The wars of mouth started.

You explode, you float
like a weightless paper,
insignificant and never
to be forgiven.

You killed the vibe.
The Thursday was broken.
Your sharp tongue is
the ugliest.

You stabbed our backs,
adultery is worshiped.
Your pride is useless.
You made a mess.

 

2017

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About chester maynes

poet, and a lover of music and books.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

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