The mountain ranges of my arms whisper secrets unknown,
Their risen valleys and burrowed creeks in quantity have grown.
The river streams bring relief but that relief soon runs dry,
And when that feeling fades away, another valley or creek is nigh.
YOU ARE READING
An Amalgamation of Words
PoetryI'm almost as bad at writing descriptions as I am at writing poems, but at least I tried. Sharing my inner turmoil, one poorly worded sentence at a time.
