A world where the wind does not blow.
There is light, but no sun or moon.
The stars burn angrily,
Dying violently as a warning.
The sky burns with an eternal violent storm
With an occasional downfall of peace.
The trees bear no fruit, nor leaves,
Yet grow quickly,
Ripping apart the infrastructure of the fallen gods.
Peace has fallen onto the land like a plastic bag
Over a sleeping infant.
The trees show no sign of life, yet continue to defy nature
Growing and straining as they do.
The sky burns the air into a thick smoke,
Yet the vultures continue to fly with ease.
I will record what events follow,
Battling my primal instincts
Shrieking into my fragile ear
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
M is the 1st part of a collection I’ve started writing detailing my emotions and thoughts as a place I call “The Gray”.
I didn't start writing until recently. When I did I stuck to what I had learned from my favorite poet: Rhyming is dope. I try to connect with my viewers on an emotional level, because like many people, I too have mental illnesses plaguing my thoughts. Written under aliases 'Absent Minded' and 'MNDFL'