Quickworded
Quickworded
I flensed quickworded
the face of my brother
full sore he flinched
then soured against me
his loss bit deep
alone I wildered
wield not word-swords
ware be our speaking
Poetry Terms Demonstrated:
Additional Resources
Get AI Feedback on your poem
Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
If You Need Support
If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741