A Life At Odds

I decided to try my hand at rhyming. There were some factories, an argument, a move, and some hope.

Skies of iron huddle

over this wasteland

it's paths beffuddle

As I walk this land

searching for the sun

through false clouds and smoke

Now I run

this must be a joke

I see nothing

but a monster frothing

It's teeth a gleam

it's breath steam

Burning through this soul mist

here I stand clenching my fist

Demanding what's mine by right

so I don't have to fight

For every little thing

a breath  of fresh air

a new beginning

It isn't fair

but no one said it was

so here I live because

I want to believe

I will recieve

Author's Note

be constructive.

Reviews

[.]

You rhymed it and felt what poetry is. 100/100

[Sethnicity]

I feel you breathing in the atmosphere. I like the ryhming and I thing the ending is justified in a manner of finding pece with all things that reain out of reach. nice poem hope to read more soon.

[Wolfie]

Perhaps it is because insomnia and computers don't mix, but I'm having trouble figuring out how the last line, "I will receive" fits. It feels a little forced in the end.