Wishful thinking,
seeded with hate,
my sins,
my mistakes,
played before me,
played for all to see,
bitterness grows,
which cannot be sedated,
I want my vengeance,
the guilty,
the innocent,
all,
and none,
forever,
and a day,
what is mine,
is mine,
what is yours,
is what I’ll repay,
in rivers of blood,
in seas of red,
so come my child,
come my one,
it’s your turn to shed.
Sign up to The Twisted Roads of Matthew Tonks to stay up to date with all the latest news and to get free books as they become available.
Unrelentingly dark and mysterious as always, Matthew. Poetry is a very personal format so let’s add scary, too.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much, the darkness where it stems is somewhere within the words waiting to escape from my lips, the shadows themselves shape and shift, giving life, breath, and a beat to move by, I just let them free.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Long may it continue and for yourself to prosper by your labours just as the rest of us will by your output
LikeLiked by 1 person
Haha, thank you, may we all live the world we wish to be apart of
LikeLiked by 1 person