My Serrated Angel
By lupus tenebrae
There comes a time of day
when I may
think of you,
and dreaming sustenance
will never get me through.
And once I was convinced
that my birth was to blame,
the
smell of sweet perfume
was bitter to my name.
Your wings
of razors edge
in simulated flight,
return me to the womb
a fine serrated sight.
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Copyright 2012 lupus tenebrae
Published on Friday, June 22, 2012.
Filed under: "Structured" and
"Poetry"
Author's Note:
*Repost* My first serious attempt at meter courtesy of the DP College, I remember it well.Comments on "My Serrated Angel"
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A former member wrote:
interesting theme and point made here, it's well received to me. always love for mom! (RIP, love you) great post, very unique
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A former member wrote:
Very good, thanks for posting.