Enough

I'm waiting on Death's doorstep
In the sun. I wish he would not
Tease. I'm tired of feeling sick
And slow, and not exactly anywhere.
I stand and peer into the window,
Ring the bell and pound the door,
And, panting, shout, I've had
Enough, you bastard! Let me in!”



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 55 times
Written on 2017-03-03 at 23:42

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