*FIERY ANGER*
He whispers reassurances,
He holds her shaking hand.
He takes her away slowly,
From the dead, destroyed land.
Fires feast on her home,
Rubble mounds are formed.
He moves her away,
From fires already warmed.
He asks her what happened,
How did the explosion start.
She replies that it was her fault,
But she's sorry with all her heart.
She did not mean to loose control,
She though it was alright.
She just wanted to prove a point,
Without starting a fight.
YOU ARE READING
⁜Blades Of Ink⁜
Poesía•°•~Someone once said to me that writing down my thoughts can help with my depressive negativity. They said that sharing it with the world can cure me.~•°• Highest ranking #760 in poetry
