There's something in the water, something in the air, something I was warned to always beware.
There's something right behind, stalking in the grass, something in the way, I cannot get passed.
There's something in the cages, something in this pen, something seemingly normal, something that descends.
There's something that's abandoned, I scream out in defense, something I cannot escape, a carousel without end.
YOU ARE READING
Poesy and Prose
PoesíaContaining songs, dreams, poems, and prose, this is a collection of my inner-most ramblings. When I need to unwind, I write.
