We Clash Together Poem by Michael Witkowski

Inside the thrush lily grows
I am milliner
I bud in yoou
Inside is a whisper
Welters my cockscomb

I stand aloof in praise
Shed tears on your joy
Besmear your grave
Bessech you, shed
No sun rays upon me

As they scare me- no
Devilish disgust seems to
Me thinkable than your
Late revenge in your
Disparaged tomb- I

Will never curse your
Blackened eyes- will
Never stream, never roam
In your black walls
But i have pride