'rust to something louder'
and so after all these months
i grip spade and grave rob the tomb
my old haunts have moved on
still fervor rattles the bones
over my state of preservation
a cold corpse yet done dying
decayed lips yet done lying
you thought i’d be dust and powder.
i’ve evolved from rust to something louder
than you could ever comprehend.
© Copyright Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved.
Poetry served to you raw and unedited from the moment crafted;
all poetry is older work and chosen at random unless otherwise noted.
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