Poem - Collapsing Temper Holds Wildly At The Precipice

collapsing
temper
holds
wildly
at
the precipice
the quiet
riot
spins

the smoking
sun
declares

the handsome
blood
freezes

we
surrenders

cruelly
within
the scorched
hell
like
the mighty
body
no one
urges

over
the lazy
poverty

of
the ordinary
urge
who
stands

on
the resistance
I
becomes
cheerfully