Winds that gaze through the passageways.
Silent cries from the night.
Hear the songs as loud as the sunrise,
Peeling the pillars, as the sound travels on through the town.
Where the people rest and the life is lifeless,
Fighting to survive these broken trials and tribulations.
Created during self doubt and insecurities,
Feeds away at the mental,
Never an exciting stimulation.
Traveling on, town to town,
Burning fears of procreate,
Recreate these dreadful images.
Launched at will during the silent night,
Or maybe day,
But who am I to say.
Minds of their own,
Taken control of the things at bay,
Transparent or apparent?
Obviously, a cry for help.
YOU ARE READING
Brown Sugared Sunflowers
PoetryThese are poems that I've been writing for the past 10+ years. Writing always tapped into a deep part of me. I had to find what I liked and what made me, well me. Once I discovered myself, Ive felt free and unbothered. I am spiritual and I am woke t...
