...It is not
poetry
but a sense lost
in words
Morning, it brings blue
so fresh so real
and confused
Like a feather gone mad
caught in the storm
But there's no rain
not today or
tomorrow
Only the calm...
the eerie silence that
screams when everything
is
still
So you wait, hoping it will wane and
waited long enough
only to realize
you have defined
Void...