eventual p.m.

By Wr1tt3n V3ng3anc3

I grew up at the crossroads
Lay my head to the stone
Listening to my heartbeat echo
From the ground
Familiarized with the many shades of sound
At the flip of a coin
I’m someone else to blame
Passing the gun, playing Roulette
In order to commit a murder on fame
Heads or tails…Who prays, who derails?
The grey that lingers in the background of your personality
The stray that feeds off the nature of a recurring tragedy
I am bad blood and crossed bones
Made a victim and the face they refuse to show
Through the tension I draw black and spit foam
The heartbeats the rhythm of an epitaph,
making a home in the aftermath
I’m facedown at the crossroads
For my head a stone as my pillow
 Sorrow is the voice that echoes
From the ground

there will be ravens on my back

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2017 Wr1tt3n V3ng3anc3
Published on Wednesday, February 28, 2018.     Filed under: "Poetry"
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Comments on " eventual p.m."

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  • dwells On Sunday, December 3, 2017, dwells (5696)By person wrote:

    Wow WV! Too many great lines here to single-out any one: the stray, the epitaph, and the ravens. Never heard of such things - until now! Instant fave - cheers my friend, Dan

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