Crab Apple
M
Mark Heathcote
0
Altın Yaprak
We've all sunken teeth into a sour ball.
Aghast at its bitter depths of beauty,
hidden to later appal like human nature
loves no different than this tutti-frutti.
These golden orbs halve rouge with pith
their shrunken skull's a coffins core.
With a taste like a dead sun's zenith,
O tang-of-death it's rancorous, tariff.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş