The kid.
I
The rain comes from his eyes
The cloud as gray as him
Here he lies in my seat
The kid looks so grimII
The flow of time is definite
The tears of man infinite
Waste a drop of water
The kid again will falterIII
The popular change, the deepest familiarity
The works of time, the legacy of destiny
From the sun to the horizon of all
The thoughts of a kid in a wallIV
The frog still can't understand how a fish swims
The drum wants to sound as a piano
The fire wants to be cold
The kid still can't understand the worldV
The master of the broken
The leader of the hunt
The captain of the foreign
The kid with all his chantsVI
The height of confusion
The peak in the middle
The forlorn ammunition
The kid of ficklesVII
The lost water in the heart of the sea
The maddened tiger from a sting of the bee
The roar of water in the waterfall
The kid fell and began to crawlVIII
Hope pleads
To go with you
But the kid chose the bed
To end the argumentIX
Today is pouring
The ground relieved
All to the liking
Of the kid who believedX
It's a matter of change
Maybe destined
Almost out of the cage
The kid grinnedXI
There is a way back
Get your rucksack
Get your luck
Grow up
YOU ARE READING
The kid.
PoetryA series of quatrains about brokenness, poems about my dress, and words written for the wordless.