Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2017
The Moon is pale,
Faded.
The few clouds that float
They reflect sharply the lights of the metropolis.
The trees, in a far, bend over the strong winds,
Which to me is the soft breeze that caresses my face.

The strange noises and the games of the shadows
Torment my mind,
Fragile and Paranoid.
Rodrigo Borges
Written by
Rodrigo Borges  21/M/Portugal
(21/M/Portugal)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems