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--AW-- Mar 2019
Oh why,
Every hour the bird sings
So beautifully
The mosquitos insist
On making a meal
The breeze continues to blow
And bring life to the stagnant trees and leaves
Oh tiny ant
Why
Do you work so hard
To survive
Why thrive
To witness the callous hand
Bring upon the last living minute
Of the persistent mosquito
--AW-- Nov 2018
So seemingly innocent,
That crack seems to be.
Yet the stains around it
Show a bigger story.
So convinient to ignore
Never to expect,
Such damage and destruction
The grand effect.
Slowest of drips
Becomes a constant flow.
Before you can patch it,
It ends in a blow.
Never really dabbled in rhyming poems, thought I should give it a go. Should I extend it, or keep it short And to the point?
--AW-- Nov 2018
I try to grab hold,
To feel something.
Something to guide me,
Lead me.
But I feel only the nothingness.
I listen,
And the sound of faint ringing engulfs me.
The sight of the static,
It spreads
From my eyes, to my mind.
There is no running.
This suffocation
Renders my lungs useless.
So I walk,
So slowly.
And I walk,
For what feels like an eternity.
Until finally
I fall.
And I keep falling,
And although I cannot see,
I already know
There is no bottom.
--AW-- Nov 2018
The light,
It tries.
With it's bright jubilance, attempts to penetrate the dark chaos within the crowded forest. It is daytime,
But within the clutter of pine and evergreen,
There is no light.
And as the darkness swallows everything in it's path,
The monsters roam freely.
Their screams,
Earpearcing, unbearing...
Yet unheard.
Bouncing from tree to tree until silence takes over.
Echos mean nothing.
Visions unclear.
Thoughts become clouded.
And that little light,
It tries.
But even the smallest spec, eventually disappears,
Within the ever-growing chaotic forest.

— The End —