So many hopeful faces,
Several paths and several traces,
Truly we are a sight to behold.
Standing alone in the debris
Empty out your wallets now!
Hands raised among debris
I can't recall my mother's voice
Torrid locks against her very choice
Took me away from mine own peers
They dangled from the chandeliers.
Count the hands let's take a poll
Without their names there is no toll.
I can't quite feel my fingertips.
As I see their feet swing freely
Another stone cast into the pond
A mind stripped o' maternal bond
I scream yet produce no sound
I'm forgotten beneath the debris.
YOU ARE READING
Lines
RandomA mess of stuff that won't fit elsewhere. Some are pretty absurdist, no direct continuity unless stated (doubtful on that, these are meant to be one-off poems/stories). I like to explore different styles of writing in small works like this, so some...
