Empty
until filled with
need
empty
until filled with
trash
full to the brim
hefting weight
floating
in the wind
with no
control
just moving
towards
that inferno
taking more
and
more
and
more
knowing
that
existence
as a
plastic
bag
alone
is destroying the
world
destroying
life
trying
to stay
same
in a world
never
accepting
and never able
to
disappear
completely
yet used
again
and
again
and
again
by hands
and filled again
and
again
and
again
knowing their
material
is so thin
yet taking
more
and
more
and
more
and crumpling
to will
people
forming
to will
and stretching
more
and
more
until
rip.
YOU ARE READING
Feathers: A Book of Poetry
PoetryA pencil is the spotlight of a soul. It tells them its okay to overflow. It tells them ideas are art, and that the best ones are masterpieces. Feathers is a collection of poetry by me to convey the beauty and undeniable strife of the world, and emot...
