the sun drops,
like a person
and the farmer stops
ploughing further
the big orb shines, an immigrant worker
this fuzzy gray cloud of mist,
of summer and the wilde-an gist
weighs whatever atlas held
watching each piece of wood as it shrieks when felled,
if only we could mend
the present into the past
to create something that lasts,
not melt in time like a forest that once was vast
clenched fists,
self loathing hits
walking on nails
chaos meets
the charm of pretend,
the mystery of revenge
when the self noun fails
I,
a corpse laying
with open eyes
on the road, paying
the price of snipping another disguise
in this hour of agony and demise,
praying to segregate all such atoms
and create entities we couldn't even fathom
we are passerbys, watching
bony and slouching
holding our skins
waiting for the white orb to dim,
to fix
our bent limbs
and never risk
acting as though we were a life in film
YOU ARE READING
| musings harmonizing
Poetryhi! <3 this is a collection of my self written poems/songs over the years. lowercase intended. possible triggers - i have introductory poems in the begging to showcase my writing style, with one old and one new poem. - most of this is imaginative...
