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Time pours fluidly from the clock,
it flies out the window
hovers over my face,
mocking, nourishing the
frantic fleeting moments,
anxiety, pain, half witted smiles
but somehow I find it grants
to me a few minutes of
soulful sea dark poetry,
sometimes it plays the sound
of crashing waves, along
desolate oceans and bleak
airy days, where I sit
by myself and laugh freely
under the shade of those who stay
and don't ever want to leave,
everything is unraveling,
seconds and hours urging to
take control and fight
but as for me I sit in front
of the bleak airy soulful sea
with my dark dark poetry,
and enjoy the grayness of
the sun's muffled light.
YOU ARE READING
Silver Dance of Poetry
PoetryHere lies a genre of emotions a sad, twisted emphasis on time something about finding people (yourself) and letting your soul fly free. I hope every word lingers in your mind.
