The StormThe water rushesAnd the blade that cuts it diesFrom mutual death. The HurricaneThe new growls break earsBecause only one sound grewLike a flower high. The ColdFall, spring, summer, fallWithout the winter, nothingAs long as clocks turn
Category: Random Poetry
Wake from my life of fantasy
All it took was one step towards the door, and the blood dripped-- Wet. The second step creaked the floor boards, raised the dead-- Skin. Closer and closer, the tiny, murky hands splintered the wood, The cries, the snaps, the burning. Each son and daughter taken by the dark-- Black. The third step was the …
