eg: neveR


Stabbing injuries; the price is high.
Knives mostly cut the attacker too
The victories become like brilliant red glass,
Dangerously sharp and irresistable,
Yet tinted with your own blood.
It's like the photograph that steals the soul,
Claiming the pound of flesh,
For an ounce of satisfaction.
You think it becomes you,
When it actually becomes you,
A bottomless pit of quick sand,
Never satiated,
Always sucking.
Only you can spit yourself out.
The improvident live here and it eats those foolish enough to visit.
But lessons come with experience,
Better to wait.
Time is the servant of blind justice.

Report Story

byvrosej10© 0 comments/ 1828 views/ 0 favorites

Share the love

Report a Bug

1 Pages:1

Please Rate This Submission:

Please Rate This Submission:

  • 1
  • 2
  • 3
  • 4
  • 5
Please wait
by Anonymous

If the above comment contains any ads, links, or breaks Literotica rules, please report it.

There are no recent comments  - Click here to add a comment to this poem

Add a

Post a public comment on this submission (click here to send private anonymous feedback to the author instead).

Post comment as (click to select):

Refresh ImageYou may also listen to a recording of the characters.

Preview comment

Forgot your password?

Please wait

Change picture

Your current user avatar, all sizes:

Default size User Picture  Medium size User Picture  Small size User Picture  Tiny size User Picture

You have a new user avatar waiting for moderation.

Select new user avatar: