Poem Hunter
Pockets Of Anger,
DG (9/19/1963 / )

Pockets Of Anger,


HIS mouth twiched,
his body turned to
crimson blue.
BEHIND this mask
is insolence, and eyes
drawing sharp instruments,
of a blankness moon.
HIS chambers are filled with
silver chains, and a bed
of nails, it is here where he
puts himself, when the drugs
dont work, or the booze makes
false promiscs

User Rating: 3,4 / 5 ( 4 votes ) 3

Comments (3)

Very intense poem David. Sincerely, Mary
david i realize this is your way of dealing with issues and i'm impressed with your title do you think it will help you long term, your poem does not deserve a low mark for it takes away from your hard work, so i will give you an eight for effort Warm regards allan
FOR A DEAR FRIEND...........if theres a way in, then theres a way out...