It's another poem. It's short and bitter. Kindasorta. Read it to find out. :)
About a tree and a lamppost.*
*Personification was used in the making of this poem.
Sometimes I listen to the silence, trying not to think, not to breathe, not to exist. Breathing is the hardest to stop. Thinking fades the slower I breathe, and my existence sometimes seems to fade away with my thoughts, but breathing just continues like an ache in my foot that won’t stop no matter how…
Red and orange leaves fall to the ground. They whisper to each other and land in yellowing grass to lie in perfect stillness. A young girl walks to the woods carrying a travel sack full of food and clothing, wearing a deep blue, hooded cloak. She stops to stare at the wall of trees and…
A prompt for the summer season.
A snapshot of a life.
A vignette of a sixteen-year-old who babysits his younger siblings over the holidays.