I'm walking but I don't know where to,
It's a winding road that I've been on for what seems like years.
Lay down to rest my head, give my body to nature.
Stuck in the soil, sprouting slowly, but the rain comes and the lightning strikes.
I'm dead, but what's the difference?
I didn't stand a chance anyway.
Reborn; a cloud in the sky, I'm forming a tornado, touching ground, rapidly spinning and destroying everything in my path,
I'll gather everything around me and tear it up, drop it and dissipate.
I just want to be pure
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 8:19 PM UTC
I'm walking but I don't know where to,
It's a winding road that I've been on for what seems like years.
Lay down to rest my head, give my body to nature.
Stuck in the soil, sprouting slowly, but the rain comes and the lightning strikes.
I'm dead, but what's the difference?
I didn't stand a chance anyway.
Reborn; a cloud in the sky, I'm forming a tornado, touching ground, rapidly spinning and destroying everything in my path,
I'll gather everything around me and tear it up, drop it and dissipate.
I just want to be pure
Request permission to use this poem