Mountains crash.
Waves shake.
The sky trembles.
The ground breaks...
Nothing makes sense,
There’s no logic;
Singing a rhythm,
Humming a click...
When may i meet you,
When may we touch?
May the world flip,
May I leave this crutch?
Forests erupt.
Volcanoes sway.
The butterflies sense you,
The demons dismay.
Jan 3, 2020
Jan 3, 2020 at 10:26 AM UTC
Mountains crash.
Waves shake.
The sky trembles.
The ground breaks...
Nothing makes sense,
There’s no logic;
Singing a rhythm,
Humming a click...
When may i meet you,
When may we touch?
May the world flip,
May I leave this crutch?
Forests erupt.
Volcanoes sway.
The butterflies sense you,
The demons dismay.
Request permission to use this poem