The Wrath Pt.3 - Poem by Isaak DeMaio
The Wrath's four walls sway,
bullet after bullet,
explosions in its heart,
damaging pieces fall,
the dirt collects secrets.
a possible soul,
as the once bulletproof Wrath becomes victimized,
The Wrath begins to fold,
as the walls begin to crumble,
the Wrath has no words,
as the Wrath begins to stumble.
Comments about The Wrath Pt.3 by Isaak DeMaio
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You