An acre's soil runs dry
as souls devour its water
its nutrition, and its vigour.
The cracks run like scars
across the desolate field.
There were no clouds
to turn the sky grey,
yet the sky had lost
its initial colour.
And he screamed:
"So dry, so dry,
I need the sky
for me to cry,
because I ran out
of tears and can
solely shout:
Help!
without a mouth,
nor a tongue,
nor a voice.
The word left stuck
in my head as I
am imprisoned.
In the ground."
YOU ARE READING
The Words of an Angsty Teen
PoetryI think I contemplate too much I'm fairly certain I need a drink To kiss, to feel another's touch - This is a poetry collection of an angsty teen. It's that and nothing else. Original, I know. Side note: this poetry collection doesn't promote depr...
