sauce
Forever confused
mortally shaken
a breath of life
to a red and crusty napkin
powered by truth
or honor and glory
The flaps are used
and the tip is ready
a mighty myth to be seen
only by the eyes of a child
the god of imagination
forever trapped to the sights of the speechless
a power undefeatable to all
but lost with age
he will live on
here on this page
👁 3💬 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.