Spoken talent shows

All this talent within its shows

A master of its

Puppet –tears as it flows

This blood of mine

No faces made to remind

This build–i climb

I am–made to believe

As if–the maker is of


And so i mime

This place opened to

Face these faces with

, find–as commercials deceased

A temporary relief

Decreasing the seeings

Of this– blood of mine

I face stains

That remain the same colors of sustains

These sirens that silence

With pain—all to

Blame— a mime, one

Of its kind —A heart

Croaked, these words

That went blind


“My enemy lines”.

Mitchell, Tierra (ae)

Published by Alpha’s Poetry notes

I am what is considered to be a starving artist; support my vision, my dream to be free with a like and/or comment. #Sharedemo

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Create your website with WordPress.com
Get started
%d bloggers like this: