Here I sit,
staring upon
an ocean
of crumbling metal,
burning civilisation.
The rose
is felt,
burying itself,
in my warmth,
feeding on my blood.
The screams,
I cannot hear,
but I imagine them
scouring my ears,
ships escape,
ships destroy,
beautiful,
carnage,
upon a canvas.
The grass,
it tries
to whisper
my thoughts away,
those red petals
searching my brain,
counting my thoughts,
the interwoven strands.
I am safe,
upon natures hand,
away from man,
but I am captive,
held hostage
to this rose,
to its vines,
as man destroys
itself in its metal prison,
mans own creation.
YOU ARE READING
Dawns mutterings
PoetryCompilation of poems, inspired by natures bounty. We are of the earth, so it is only fitting that it in turn inspires us. Although much of my poetry is in some way inspired by nature this small compilation highlights just how much it impacts all I d...
