In slow motion, I see
the world I once grew in,
is not the same anymore;
I look through doors and windows,
sit outside as they all gathered–
one wall, different worlds.
In slow motion, I feel
the ground I once walked in
turned into a lifeless meadow;
I ran through roads and bridges,
tossed pebbles, sticks, and branches–
the path's untraveled no more.
In slow motion, I taste
the first drops of Summer rain,
quench the thirst of sidewalk chalk;
I eat and drink in madness,
watched the trees and orange sunset–
hunger still haunts me like a ghost.
In slow motion, I fade
against the light of my poems–
tethered tight to my soul;
my poems will live in legends
as I dive to Hades' descent–
I'll read them to His escort.
YOU ARE READING
Abandoned
PoetryI come before you asking to come here and see- here lies a poetic anthology of pain, deception, and agony... Abandoned. (2024)
