I could recalled the skepticism avenue Told by an gaunter wrinkle tongue: Pondering upon a midnight door chamber Diggers stabbing, wakens the sleep walkers In the rooms of tourists - As for a traveler, Guts were decorated on top of sealers - Swelled the breasts onto the fine mirror - And the bloods slashes down Uniting with the separated body parts on the ground - The fleshy h'art 'twas squeezed tightly - Bloods laminating the right wrist as the fingers Enclosed deliberately - Absoluting the last drip While the raging left grouges the eyes with a fork At points, I could hear The Knocking Heartbeats Quivering from outside the door chamber of the traveler's doom - Tonight, a drop of rain ripped from the ceiling onto My forehead as the fine mirror revised as was a bloody stain - Then, I heard a scream -Birth sign: Scorpio
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by nor vang.