What
happens
when the
laughter
stops
When
that
penny
finally
drops
When we
wake up
tomorrow
with a
raging
hangover
And that
stomach
churning
guilt
takes
over
"All my life's buried here, heap earth upon it"
What
happens
when the
laughter
stops
When
that
penny
finally
drops
When we
wake up
tomorrow
with a
raging
hangover
And that
stomach
churning
guilt
takes
over
Ramblings Of A Fragile Mind 
great title! great opening stanza! the editor in me says cut it after stanza three: let it hang rather than spell it out. Let the uncertainty hang
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… let it hang like a Damoclean sword
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Perhaps you’re right.
I’ve never been great at editing…
Although I’m thinking ‘The Damoclean Sword’ is a great title for a follow up!
😁🖤
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thanks for considering my comment; I meant it in the right spirit: if I didn’t care about the poem, I wouldn’t have looked at it with an editorial eye 🙂
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No problem at all my friend! 😁
As I say, I do have a tendency to write and post without editing sometimes – so I’m happy to take all the feedback I can get.
Plus it warms my cold, dark heart to think that anyone cares enough about my ramblings to comment – so please… critique away! 😁🖤
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