Reads: 37  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 1

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

once more, i sink into 
the depths
swathed in grey
quickly disappearing into 
there is no method
to this madness;
there is no rhyme or reason 
to this despair
as i fold into
impossible pieces and 
bend into
unfathomable shapes and
fit into
impossible spaces.
my anger silently churns
like unto a red twilight 
quietly hovering o'er the Deep,
and my bones creak 
like unto a rusted mast 
abreast that self-same stormy sea. 
what is this strange thing
i've become? what great beast is this
that rises from the abyss?

Submitted: June 16, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Jennifer Brighton. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:



A nicely balanced poem; stately even.

Wed, June 16th, 2021 11:44am


Thanks for reading and commenting! Your critique is much appreciated.

Fri, June 18th, 2021 10:18pm

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