We're spinning too fast.
Holding on to thread of words that will never last.
Our ground beneath our feet is burning.
We try to put it out, but all we have is gasoline.
No escaping this hopeless prophecy,
no escaping this written tragedy.
YOU ARE READING
Drops of Poetry
PoetryDrops of Poetry It's raining outside my window Just like my emotions inside me The taste of the salty rain and sorrow Every problem falls on me like rain I catch it with my hand Turning it to rhymes and names I'm soaking wet from wher...
