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.


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