Frothing/churning/
Aching /burning/
A new tidal storm has brought with it noise and energy, pumping and squirming to escape.
This storm, a life of its own, readies it's war horses to descend upon the people, so idle and unknowing in their ways.
As it raises it's head, screaming to the sky for what is to come, the first torrents of anguish pour forth, drowning hundreds in a sea of despair.
What is happening?
What is to come?
When will this end?
The questions force their way through the howling of clouds and wind, calling attention to themselves, the cries of the last fading from screams, to shouts, to whispers.
A calm.
Exceeding the living storm in all ways with the silence screaming to be noticed by those whom no longer hear;
Waiting, watching, pacing as it stays,
Waiting for the next creatures to come.
NF♤
YOU ARE READING
A Heart Of Ink //DISCONTINUED//
AléatoireThese are fragments of my heart and thoughts put into words. Some may call it poetry, others might not. It may come in any form, so do not expect a simple book of poetry, but pages of my heart, broken, smothered, incomplete. These things have been...
