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Fate Song
November 19, 2021
Colors of the sunset
Slash the waves apart
Make the sand cold
Does death come knocking
Or does it stand in your house for a long time
Then take you from behind?
Digging for shells
Trillions of my thoughts
Known only to the sky.
The house is built with breath
Death is the cat that snatches it
Sighs in the blood.
Reaching for your hands
Many thoughts of summer skies
Slipping through the sands.
Shiny at the door
Sympathetic junk man
Gives me back my toys.
Swaying in the wind
Moment’s passage speaks
All of me listens.
© Cara L., Cheney, WA
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This article has 2 comments.
Poetry is the help. I just have a habit of writing psychologically disturbed poems and stories...one girl in my writing class a couple years ago simply told me, "You need to see a psychiatrist." Some of my earlier works were so creepy and violent that I felt the need to tone them down, but I'd already printed them and I didn't want to spend more money on copies.
SparrowSun ELITE said...
on Nov. 28 2021 at 8:56 am
im so sorry.
can you get the help you need?
can you get the help you need?
Hah hah...I dare you to interpret this poem!