talking to the dead

From the darkened wood
I walk
to that hellish place where i once stood
I talk
the ghost of Chris past
is there
my future
He mocks
alcohol and dope
will be
my whips and stocks

Comments

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