The Joy of Living
On the outside you see my living body,
On the inside I'm decaying,
In my soft eyes you see I'm paying my soul pain,
In my soul I'm stuck in a cell,
On my beating heart is the buck,
On my head are my antlers striking the art,
In my skin is my crumbling bones,
In my head is my mumbling spirits,
Looking for the better days
👁 2💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.