Run Over Poem by Etienne Charilaou
Run Over
Feed my apogee!
Neglect my minstrelsy.
Voice your discontent.
No harm is meant.
Submit, proclaim.
Life has no aim.
I might as well abstain.
Than be met with disdain.
Parade your wares.
Be caught unawares.
Singe your throat.
Death does gloat.
He was run over.
Young life over.
Eliminations rampant.
So vulgar, so candent.
Wednesday, July 19, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: life,life and death,accident,death
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5/7/2024 4:13:12 PM # 1.0.0.1119
