Clay and mud
mixed in blood
molten wood
falling under
burnt asunder
I wander
heartless it seems
like all the world
is the idea that we
should be stranded
at the seams
I can't help but unravel
sound tight
I keep it all inside
the helpless cry
of a childhood denied
simmers now
below red black
thick acrid
hell is near
I feel it's burn
a thousand suns
could not be worse
I give my all
I know not my worth
disturbed upturned
I have to wonder
where is the point exact
of a triangle back to back
is the idea that we
should at all be
infinite.

©JM.Cole