*originally written on may 3rd, 2021, all scattered on a piece of scrap paper*
Grass under my feet
Heart wants to fly from my chest
Sawdust fills my lungs
The river runs quick
I sit on the mossy bank
Watching the water
Help me feel something
Breeze chills my bones and my soul
But I feel nothing
Moonlit skies light my
Way, guiding me home sweet home,
Live another day
Prophet of madness
As he walks sad downtown streets
For some sign of life
Cracked pavement under
Foot feeling heavy to lift
Through smoke butt graveyard
Needle in the grass
The only evidence left
From utopia
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Book 3
Poetrythird poem collection. they aren't in any particular order or anything like that, and after 100, there will always be a new one. if you've been here a while, I'm sure you know the drill. now, about the cover. it was a random Thursday, and an old fri...
