Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Ironic Literateaic Poem of Death

I lay amidst a cage
overtaken by rage.
I fill with despair and hate,
While we ponder and debate,
our bitter fate.

Forlorn and futile my accompanies and I will regret,
Our horrifying effect.
Now the time has come.
For nowhere to hide,
We feel glum.

A last stand perhaps,
But the grave surrealism, that we will collapse.

1 comment:

  1. Wow, that was depressing but really good. You have a really good use of vocab and i like that you made the poem rhyme. I don't really get what the picture has to d with the poem though.

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