A cloudy night, in a dimmed
and lacklustre empty park
looking up to the skies,
wondering about the sludge falling
down to the earth,
soaking the soil
with tainted intent.
It climbs and soaks your knees
chilling you to the bone
and reaching all the way up towards your knee caps,
it gives you resistant to move,
for where, to whom, where to, shall you go?
Swaddling in your own baggage,
from the rain that never ends,
sinking you further into
immobility, and wondering,
where is it that you can go or is it always going
to be this endless flood,
of ill intent, surrounding your soul.
YOU ARE READING
Anthology of Random Thoughts
PoetryAn area of random prose. When inspiration strikes, and there's a thought, here it is. I only ask that you (my dear reader) do not write very harsh criticisms, some of these are really dark thoughts and some of them are - my way to heal. If you know...
