Everything. But, nothing.
Rivers, devoid of life, Mars.
Roads, devoid of feet.
Devoid of leaves, nature's shelter.
"Is that all you can muster?", strength.
There is none. An iota.
Silent. A cave.
Occasional horns, distant.
Hollow streets, pushing the air open.
You stand there, under towers of construction.
Below, raindrops like snow.
Wet shoulders. Skies of smoke.
Dressed for the occasion.
Naked.
Bare open. Yet nobody sees.
Searching for something.
Like an antiseptic for a bruised arm.
Bruise. Yes.
A bruise, treatment like that of cancer.
Undiscovered.
Eyes, looking but not.
Lifeless. Pupils dilated. Like that of a deer,
Runover.
Consumed. Clutches of torment.
Talons on a rabbit, waiting for the beak to gnaw.
3 minutes past 24, at the edge.
Broken. Alone.
A leap away, to eternity
YOU ARE READING
Depths
PoetryIt's not been too long since I started writing. But I've found peace in writing unlike anything else. Here are my thoughts, what I feel, what I see, my perceptions, and my imagination. Welcome.
