The river does not run-
It stagnates just like the one it was compared to.
Like the one that was cut off, over saturated
The river was better, never running into trouble.
Steady, reliable, mature.
Time goes, the waves no longer flow.
Nothing can move-
The river is helpless, motionless, useless
And in debt.
Planning for tomorrow while suffering through today.
All it took was a fraction of time, a small second
To turn a resourceful river into a pond.
YOU ARE READING
What a Wow, Queen Mother
PoetryA collection of the musings and poetry of a 21 year old. Based on true life experiences and events.
