Death Of The Poem Poem by Bellis Bovemsol

Death Of The Poem



I sink my fangs
Into the soft throat
Of a poem

There's no blood
Only ink

I have no mercy
For my own works

I always try to pass them off
Already dead
Frozen on the run
Toward infinity

Al dente
Not too clever
But not trite either

Just right
In taste
As well as in serving

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