b. shells
Roll the body 'til the bone surrenders with a shatter.

Showered in seasoning to make the death more appealing.

Slightly petrified, the flesh, a sun its inner quarters.

Ignorance to substance, we praise its bones, a metaphor.

Comments:
 
Trenchtownrock   Trenchtownrock wrote
on 4/17/2009 6:19:10 AM
Pure fire my friend..pure fire with this write...this is the type of write that makes my bones move..good work.

Stephen M
Poetry
Free Verse
writing Stephen M
Doesn't write as much as he should.
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