Death By Circles Poem by Shipra Agarwal
Death By Circles
All my words come cloaked in similar colored garbs
It's time to change the ink I guess, or the ink pot.
Oh but, this is blood I'm writing with,
Since when? I try to remember; I cannot.
Ah then, I'll break this quill against my bones
and bleed myself dry.
Foolish songs! take your leave,
It's time for your poet to die.
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5/3/2024 11:42:14 PM # 1.0.0.1119
eeeeks a bit dark...even if nicely done... ended on a AWOL note.....if you listen to music NO]]? ? well too bad....nice poem anyway be happy :)