Scuzzbucket
Published in

Scuzzbucket

Note From The Deceased

a poem

Photo Courtesy of Author

There’s a cloud on the wind painted in black,

it stalks the beguiled on this slowest hour,

at my window its scream has come to clack,

as the air that I breathe begins to sour.

The trembling wave rocks the beat of my heart,

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N.S. Simko

N.S. Simko

2.1K Followers

Poetry, prose, short stories, and experimentations. Whatever distracts me from working on my novel.