Returning to form and The Barcode
Hey sorry for the huge gap in posts ive been quite ill these few past weeks but all better now here’s a poem, watch this space in the next few weeks as ill be uploading lots of short stories and finally uploading to the Tilt World tab!
The barcode, a definition of purpose
Red marks left by agitated fingers
The soreness of his dampened pride still lingers
These fingers twitch dry with earth
blood streaked through their lines.
How odd it was, as shrapnel and bombs
danced through the skies.
A deafness in the ears as he
looked up in wonder, as the sky
was set ablaze from a wars defending thunder.