Untitled, Again Poem by Brenda Finch
Untitled, Again
Fiery murmurings, skulls and bones,
darkly moving shadowy groans
Pits of bondage
Howls of pain
haunting sorrows
Gnawing shame
Hope is gone
All is lost
What a pity
What a cost
To cast aside the grace
That would’ve saved you
From this place
It's actually not as bad as you think. Everyone thinks it's like something out of Hieronymus Bosch, but it's not. It's gotten a bad rap. And guess what? The pitchfork is just for show.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 12:04:00 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I agree with the hound