From The Mercenary's Den
@mercenarysden.bsky.social
Words, posing as poetry. Some become songs, others just stay where they are.
When my eyes see still
Sights that the head
Finds difficult to hold
We will not speak
No more
Because there is nothing left
To tell
Sights that the head
Finds difficult to hold
We will not speak
No more
Because there is nothing left
To tell
June 6, 2025 at 6:37 PM
When my eyes see still
Sights that the head
Finds difficult to hold
We will not speak
No more
Because there is nothing left
To tell
Sights that the head
Finds difficult to hold
We will not speak
No more
Because there is nothing left
To tell
May 30, 2025 at 6:50 PM
I mean beautiful, but beating too
January 11, 2025 at 8:27 PM
I mean beautiful, but beating too
What a beating and haunting poem
January 11, 2025 at 8:26 PM
What a beating and haunting poem