There's this surge on my shoulders
I wonder when the dark times will be over
For the air that we breath is made of gun powder
Igniting the chaos in it's host
Causing loud dread
And forcing our courage to melt
It grew overnight
Now tar is ingrained in our lungs
It fluctuates in every room
Raising to the brain
Dimming what's left from hope
Music plugged in all ears
There's still audio to tame our fears
Confined in boxes of reed or brick
Too scared to even breath
We are trapped in this chapter
Captive, afar from each other
Once again,
Nature turned us into a prey
A curse for painting her grey
And we battle to take back the grip
Finding solace in a future spring
A race humbled by the plague
I see we put our egos aside
Conjuring the only one who can us guide
YOU ARE READING
Raw Lines
Poetry"....In this flitting moment, I would stop sounding poetic and just spit the raw words I've been coating with the finest leather. But I believe you'd find me even sadder...." So I invite you into this path of thornes and petals. Please, enjoy but d...
