I am the wind, come rain, not weather
I am the drought, come water, not desert
I am the cloud, come hail, not shade
I am a god, come life, not made
I am the world, I differentiate
This world doesn't need to precipitate
Broken homes of people who need a new slate
Rubber mess led to things I inflate
I am the people, I despise
I can see through hollow lies
I am the difference for the enterprise
Time to shape me up to my size
I was the world that somehow went right
A man's idea, taken final flight
Due to a mix of the world's plight
A burning book on the eighth night
YOU ARE READING
Poem Book
PoetryA literary tête-à-tête to help myself get by. You will find both poem and prose in this public diary of thought and representation, but a cliché name never hurts anyone.
