To hell

Just a quick something been away a while....not perfect but it is what it is

To hell with the velvet crimson skies
To hell with this latent feeble fight
To hell with your trumpets solitary roars
To hell with this hollowness that bores
To hell with thid murky muddied life
To hell with this last breath silenced by the strike of a knife

Reviews

[Zoe Richardson]

For some reason, when I read this, I thought, "This is probably what Jack The Ripper mumbled as he trawled the streets of the East End looking for a victim." I have a dramatic brain. Forgive me! But the poem does have the ability to provoke striking images. That is very important!