The weather brews
Under her pen.
The ink marks
The page
And the color
Always
Depends on her mood.
Maybe
The earth was created
By a writer.
Maybe
Our whole existence
Is just multiple marks
On pieces of paper.
Maybe
One eraser swipe
Is all that is needed
For people to die.
What if
Our world
Wasn't a world
But just a writers
Simple thoughts.
YOU ARE READING
Poems for a Rainy Day
PoetrySome people stock up on pennies for rainy days: I stock up on small poems. Just a few random poems that I create when I am bored. For the best experience (if you even have a good experience), I would recommend reading each line by itself. Thanks fo...
