PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

While remaining absent of heat

Vision lacking and reach cut short

You can smile, let your face hit the dirt

Since it's seven past, everything's invalid

But with a grinning tone in the desert

A gasp could be heard 'round the world

And the sweet sounds of vomit aren't short behind

That picture frame's turned to the opposite

The alternative takes the way and tears it astray

Everywhere we choose to see

A frozen smile greets us casually

A picture's worth a thousand years

And we've only just turned sixteen

We're actually one-hundred percent immortal

And this life is a temporary stand-off,

so say something

Anything...

Everything



Worthy of haste and buried below

Corpse-ridden battlefield

There's nothing symbolic

It rots,

and it rots all over again

In a metallic skull

Jagged-toothed along the way

With limitless mechanisms

Thoughts and ideals dart back-and-forth

Never escaping through speech or signal

Left to rot

Such as the battle

Such as the soldier

The frequently misguided soldier



There never was a last time,

There'll never be another beginning



When the last page turns,

All that was is thrown to an artificial breeze.