United States

Random Poetry

January 4, 2018


Warm water was traded in for ruthless, crashing waves;
The liveliness was reduced to a mere group of sailors, their vests and rainscoats fluttering in the wind.
Rain pelted down onto the streets, slamming them angrily as it screamed and screeched,
Desiring to claim back what was once its counterpart.
The brisk, mid-morning air, once cool and crisp,
Now swept the streets, in search of prey,
Whipping and lashing angrily.
The hum of life in the city, once forming a perfect orchestra,
Was now dismantled,
Producing only some random strokes here and there -
But largely silent.
Yet, a bead of light slipped through my window,
A sliver of it illuminating the hard oak floors,
And I knew there was hope to go on.
Because I'm not good at coming up with titles


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  • January 4, 2018 - 8:58pm (Now Viewing)

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