Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2015
The sands scream when they hear my name,
The cliffs bow at my touch,
The ground carves a path for me,
The soil falls away with a single roar,
The living worship me,
The dead are consumed by me,
But still I run,
I do not relish my zenith,
Instead I shy away,
I escape to join the many before,
And hide.
Parsavagely Kompenere
Written by
Parsavagely Kompenere  19/F/Yorkshire
(19/F/Yorkshire)   
448
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems