Death of a Writer

They’re not afraid,
They’re not afraid–
Used to be, but
They’re not afraid !

Standing erect,
    draped in print chains
With bloodlust eyes,
    can see through feign. 

I think I'm done,
    contrast my life;
I'm going to
    a place of strife. 

The lusted and
    hollow agony;
Burn me in the
    old willow tree. 

When I see my
    body secure:
Kill them all, please !
    The publishers !
Advertisements

What do you think? Criticisms and praise welcome.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

  • ANTHOLOGY VIEWS

    • 5,581 peeks
  • Months through the ANTHOLOGY

%d bloggers like this: