three skeletons sitting on a shelf
the word I spell to myself
the divine poison I pour
I cannot forget
but always be nostalgic
of whiskey
The feeling completing myself
but always on a rim
The profound remedy of joy
the Devil's leg
Trapped and yet alive
no one feels my pain

                                              I suffer
Through madness and empty
minds are poor to describe
Fortunate or damned
I cannot tell anymore
in all this chaos
You will never love me
for who I am
years of thunder
wrecking my spine
                                            I am the one that's left
                                            Devastated, immune, condemned
for need of existence
there is some left of me
but not much
to call a life
an enemy
worth fighting
Categories English poemsTags , , ,

3 thoughts on “Nectar

  1. Indeed it is “an enemy worth fighting” ✌

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It is… Drunken mind is always difficult to heal. Thank you for your comment dear!!! ❤


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