Oh fortune, you’re the moon faced silver crescent broken by these thousand voices. In waves of darkness hear the soldiers trampling descending doom of crippled choices. Oh fortune you’re an orb, you’re smashed and shattered my destiny of ruptured dreaming. razor wire noose around my neck is tightened future is the subtle screaming To fortune
My mind is a little dark these days, and somehow asking fortuna for help seems our only hope.. This is written for Kerry’s prompt of 55 words at toads, I will also link up to Poetry Pantry tomorrow morning.
October 3, 2015