To the swaying of the grass
Matches the beating of the heart
With the bleating wind
The sound of falling apart
A rock to be
I cover the fragility
yet each time to crack
Under the pressure a rock that has never fallen
gently awakes the thwack
When the anvil comes a callen
Back comes broken
what once was fixed
and again never healed
patched with sticks
To the swaying of the grass
matches the beating of the heart
and with the bleating wind
the rock falls apart.
YOU ARE READING
A Nightmare While Awake
PoetryA set of short Poems that show a progression of a mental state
