Finial Distention Poem by Walter C. Edwards
Finial Distention
Heal my soul and my scared arms,
from this storm damaged life,
torn apart right out of my guts,
spilling down my legs and onto the floor.
just be for me.
bloody hands try to put it all back in.
as wooden beam comes crashing down on my head,
I don't think I might be dead,
I am rising to some other place,
where it is I not to sure,
but is this my finial distention.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/24/2024 8:30:47 PM # 1.0.0.1119
