The walls
of this room,
crumbling
in the gloom.
If they crack
much more,
the ceiling
will collapse
and I'll be
lost under
the rubble
forevermore.
Grasping my
eternal
last gasps,
as chocking
dust pours.
Filling my lungs,
those clasping pores
where paintwork
used to hide.
The scars
now septic,
the paint sticks,
but paper and brick
decay into dust.
Mixing with
rainwater tears
that fall through
the holes
that appear.
Thanks for reading
Please take a few moments
to check out my new book "Poetic Outlaw"
available from Amazon
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CVQ5F9K8/
Every click, every book purchase,
every like and share
really helps me
to keep doing what I love.
Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle
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