-
limply, he hung the flag
and in his hands he took
his faith, so dimly shining
and crushed it
like glass
the pieces of his reflection
staring back at him from the floor.
tin soldiers are prone to rust
made for rough play
boys throw them away
with the ease of a full wallet
allowances are made.
just leave him outside
with the rain on his face
wetting the metal
down on the porch
and there where he stood
one by one
another drop fell.
- by lancifolium |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 09/27/2018 |
- Skip
Comments (0 Comments)
No comments available ...