the hands of history
“instruments for life/ruin”
erase the Earth’s shell and you’ve got building blocks,
coloring users’ hands with power,
leftovers of forgotten structures and
instruments for life/ruin.
passively do such blocks assemble, their blueprints
so eclipsed by the sovereigns’ wonts,
evermore reducible/never reconstructive of the same fleeting whole.
About the Creator
Bridget Couture
An aspiring author and poet with an unquenchable love for books. Can often be found typing intensely or substituting reading for sleep.
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More stories from Bridget Couture and writers in Poets and other communities.
If Evil, Why Cute?
It starts like this, fair readers: It's the early morning, and I've just stolen the last cup of coffee from the pot. I open up my brainstorming journal to scrappy pages, my laptop primed upon a dusty, glowing white screen; words either already written or about to be written upon the blank spaces.
By Amanda Starks4 days ago in Humor
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