sunlight syrup drips down through
the soil I am buried beneath.
eyes searching through the cracks.
wind swifter than the cottontail,
biting back like a rattlesnake.
i'll be polite to wane off these scorpions,
i fear you'll sting me.
YOU ARE READING
post writing class highschool poems
Poetryim posting these here more for myself to keep them organised. also writing this are a p healthy way to cope so I'm gonna try to write more. reminder @ myself to start a new one once I graduate.
