🔵 By Phillip Williamson. Photo by lauragrafie.
In a flowery war
I warred with the thorn roses
That bloom shadows
On my soul
To the salt sheet that breaks
I drift through its jagged rift
A bloody misfit
On dark black coal colored cliffs
One built from the bottom of misery
Is torn from a treacherous sea
At the top is suffering
With suns of no serene
Look for land fall
But it’s a shorn piece
Where the sorrows feast
And the start of tomorrows
Lives life off the borrowed
Of all that is hollowed