PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I've heard it's good to know
Who your real friends are
That's a bad game of telephone
When your enemies are closer

So close

You can feel their breath on your neck
They're on your shoulder
Patting on backs
Backing on pacts

The water isn't rising

I'm losing countries; homelands
Pandora's lock boxes for my words
Don't mend the fence posts
While the field burns around you
These ashes don't pollute lungs
But break the rungs of your ladder

The water level hasn't changed

I'm just sinking faster
Than I had originally planned
Keep your friends clothes
But keep their attention even longer
I often loathe
When loaves of lies
Conspire to disguise themselves as mana
This smoke suprises by not coming from fire
And this rotted bread doesn't need yeast
When it rises