Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2013
Maybe if the wind shifted
its direction
our souls would be
less fractured.

But for now it seems
that our remains will be
severed from our remedies.
Our maladies
meet their extremeties
and forever
less than never
our lives
will be nothing but dust in the breeze.

Now remember please,
that our choices are
confusing.
Save the formalities
for the ceremonies
this rigorous ritual
we claim to be sentimental
our lives that cause stress and
our minds that break our souls.
Like I said, our lives are nothing
but dust in the wind;

if only it'd shift its direction.
Kendra Gibson
Written by
Kendra Gibson
536
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems