Categories: Art, Culture, horror, illustration, Poetry, Writing
And counted few,
Are carrying a fortune in chains
Surrendered not such gold
And oiled copper,
Where the tiger at the reigns
Debates carrion against
Son and daughter.
Scrubbing for salt thin under thumb,
I am here past when you are gone.
Another enigmatic and clever piece. I really like your poetry. ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person