My Unstable Poetry

Ghostly Adapted

Soaring in a loud machine

Thoughts get wiped out out of me

This feeling feels the ground

And my feet lead me

I don't know what to think

After decades this town is still hollow

Each day is a pattern

Ghostly adaptions take over

A building

A park

A school

A group of unwanted teenagers

They all took over

But in a good way

People soared in like a fleet of ships

Admiring are beautiful hollowed-out town

My soul is there with that adaption

Of newly sorrowed mothers

And newly founded fathers

Coming here

To

Not do a thing