my lost contentment
to deny my lost contentment
would result in the resentment
of the eyes that shake the dead.
i devour what i'm fed.
rotten food that stinks of mould
is equivalent to cold,
misty mornings, when a dream
i interpret as a scream.
©LukaKorba
If you enjoyed this poem and are interested in reading more, consider checking out my blog at and following me for brand new poetry and art daily!
You can also follow me on other social media platforms here:
You can now also join my new poetry server on Discord here.
Check out my new poetry book entitled 'one hundred and ten' here:
With love,