Churning Poetry

The Fantasy

The Fantasy

Drip, drip, drip

Something dropped from nowhere

Its sound fell with the heartbeat

I felt weak


I clutched firmly to the skeptre

Involuntarily

My hand flew to my forehead

I touched something wet

It smelt blood

The smell was overbearingly strong.



I began drifting to sleep

The action uncontrollable and with urgency

I could not tell time and position

"Where was I?"

"What happened?"

I was going fast

My energy concentrated on the skeptre



Soon I was oblivious of anything

I felt the skeptre drop to the ground

"What was I doing?"

In the distance the war cry sounded

Is life worthy fighting for

Here I am

The king to be

Lying in a pool of blood

The skeptre of power on the ground.

How do you rate this article?

3


stbrians
stbrians Verified Member

Am in the world yet am not of this world. https://www.publish0x.com?a=jnegp0Eraw


Churning Poetry
Churning Poetry

Poetry is the spice of the soul. A poet is an emotional person. He creates love, hate, worry etc. A poet is a mind reader. He knows your thoughts.

Publish0x Publish0x

Reward the author with $0.01 in crypto, and earn yourself as you read!

20% to author / 80% to me.
Rewards are FREE. Publish0x pays them, not you.

Page not displaying correctly?