'Oh' Spoke Anguish

By Abberant

Ripples; ridges
Twisted-into-tar
Anchored to- 'this' shell.
Yet they bleed faster,
Where your eyes begin-

Lances are tired
Of crafting needles
Gained from tin.

'Oh' 
Said Anguish
Blinded from within
I'm rusting on the cogs,
Turning spindles
Into thimbles.

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2016 Abberant
Published on Friday, March 31, 2017.     Filed under: "Poetry"

Author's Note:

bleh.
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