Feb 14, 2024
What am I? (Scriddler poem)
I have no lips to kiss you with
My bones are getting old
My skin patched up by threads and needles
How long will stitches hold?
I have no lies to tell you, dear
No words to ease your mind
My eyes too blinded by your brilliance
Your sickness is my pride
I have not much to offer you
Besides these trivial fears
Yet, when I’m callin’ you ‘my darling’
You will reply ‘my dear’
I have no lips to kiss you with
What am I? Can you guess?
For all your answers, you still question
That I will be your death