• hmg101p 20w

    Dark poetry; my dusty words. Makes my mind a dangerous place to be, when the rhyming become absurd...

    Closed up and off, old prose is stuck in my throat. A bullet hole the size of the sky, has rippled through my ghost. Most people will never accomplish, making acquaintances with their shadow. I live, dedicated, as my misunderstandings are shallow. I know I saw him, drawing thin flowers in my dreams. And I’ve tried so very hard, to commit those memories to ink. But cobwebs rope my fingertips. Since I finally realized, love doesn’t exist. I roam alone inside my hollow. Wonder how my tears echo on their own...

    -HMG