Poetry: Trapped

Surreal? 

Could it be a coup de maître; could it be a coup de "farce"; could it be a coup de grâce; or, perhaps, a coup de cœur after a coup de foudre?

You decide.

© TRAPPED

Exploding creation pounding at the doors;

Frostbitten embryos pushing at icy wombs;

The faster you grow, the harder the rain falls.

Terrorized by Hypnos arrhythmic breaths,

Ethereal truths bleed in a dead language;

All are trapped in the threads of Death’s shroud.

Mimi Wolske

All Rights Reserved