Riding in the car
(what are we still doing out?)
And I see the tips of these
barren trees orange by the glow
of the sunset.
The line so distinct between
shadow and the heavens.
We're down here,
below the line,
faded,
running around like chickens
without their heads.
It's like God himself doesn't
even want to look at us
if he had been looking at all.
And somebody,
an angel or something,
is trying to keep the light
on us, trying to bring hope
into this hopeless time
with little success.
All the while cursing
that humanity could
fall to this chaos.
War is one thing.
At least with that,
people were fighting
for something, saw a way
through to the other side.
But this? This has
no answer, no end
of the tunnel in sight,
no filter between
truth and fact
because everyone speaks
a level of truth.
We should be scared.
YOU ARE READING
A Collection of Poetry (For You)
Poetry"Poetry" collection poems, songs, phrases, etc A bit of my heart and soul in every phrase, stanza, line.
