VI.I.VIII.Frustration

Frustration bites at my lips;

Rips the skin and I taste the copper blood;

Floods through my brain

Forcing the knowledge out into the mud.

So many words, with so much meaning,

Pouring in through my weary eyes;

But none of it remains for long;

Flows out with the breath of my tortured sighs.

Reviews

[R J Askew]

This would make a great tube poem. You know the ones they sometimes put on the trains where the advers go. It's the right length and I can imagine myself crammed in on the Jubilee Line reading this...but there is hope in the last two lines. And a sigh can be a great physical easing of tension. So reading this while stuck in a tunnel might prove a release. I reckon the poem travels cos you don't define the frustration so the reader can adapt the poem to suit their own annoyance du jour.

[Chloe Madison Taylor.]

i love this one.
it was really good.
i bite my lips alot when im .. well, any time.

love the copper blood line.