Bossed around, no authority.
For every reach, is for sure cut short.
Grey clouds loom over the small and the frail.
Though if thou will, one can manipulate.
The rising storm is on a finger, if only the fist was not closed.
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Watcha think? Please vote and comment. I'll post a poem if ya got one.
This one is very, very close to the story to my life. So please tell me what you think.
Oh and if you're curious, to the finger and closed fist expression, I'll tell you.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PuisiJust some poems to help those who feel as if they have no power, and feel the need to have some modivation.
