The sky grows dark...a sound escapes, a loud boom meant to be a roar, as it collides with the last bit of light blue. From within the people can hear a rumble, bang, boom...from the deaths comes clear, sparkling tears. Thousands of them, hitting the ground shatering like glass as the tears of angels stop the dark sky turns a soft grey. Out of nowhere a second wave hits and the angels soft tears starts again (for angels are very sensitive) they cry because someone has died. The sky still a soft grey.
YOU ARE READING
The Forget Me Nots
PoetryThis is a simple book of poetry no more, no less. Thank y'all so much for getting up to #4 in through my eyes, this is my highest ranking and I'm honored. :)
