I lone wandered the meadows of endless dead grass burnt by the blazing sun. I stood on the hill, gazing far off into the starless ink black horizon. The leaves rustled. I stretched out my arms, the air unsettled, my skin tensed, and in came the sickly summer winds. I closed my eyes and breathed in the distant smoke. Something was changing for me - something horrific.
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Fragments
PoetryAssorted short poems and standalone writing fragments I write when I'm in the mood.