Untitled #4A Poem by AidanA very angry poem.
Twisting;
a tempest tossed torment Dancing in the dark, a ballet on shards of shattered glass Like whiskey caught in the back of your throat, or salt poured into wounds not yet begun to heal Degradation and the cessation of higher brain functions The fields are burning, and the towers have all tumbled down The silence left in the wake of collapse is shearing itself apart at the seams It all spirals down, down, down. © 2014 Aidan |
StatsAuthorAidanSan Antonio , TXAboutEnglish/Teaching Major that enjoys reading (and writing!) poetry, science fiction, and horror. Looking to keep a place where I can post writing and get some constructive feedback. Would love to hear y.. more..Writing
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