FAMILY TREE
- Dark Poets Club

- Sep 30
- 1 min read
By Leo Smith

Up in knotted branches, where kin twist & turn,
A breeze dances through, a whisper soft yet stern.
The leaves grow bloody, fruit bitter & sickly sweet,
There, in solitude, they hang & dare not greet.
My neck heavily kissed with lariat splinters
My swan song, choreographed by twitching fingers.



