Challenge
Challenge of the Week CCXXVIII
This week, post a poem of that isn't necessarily your favorite, but it's a favorite of those who read you. Winner is decided by likes and us. As usual, 25 bucks is paid to the winner. Go.
14 reads
Trust No Crow
I'm made forlorn
By any renovating
Even if the walls were worn
Beyond speaking.
Now I roam the roads
Seeking some destination
But all the crows forebode,
Swooping down to defend their stations.
I'm surged with instinct
After stress recess.
The sense of stinging's
Cross-hatched abroad my breast.
I fell short of reassurance
At my pleas to flee
And escape the burden
Of being where I'm not supposed to be.
The mountain is ours!
We offered slivers and you left scars!
The valley is ours!
You took and took now we can't see the stars.
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