It's what you do.
You run.
You run from
the screaming.
Until the only
screams heard
are your own.
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Author:
dusk arising (
Offline) - Published: May 1st, 2021 09:13
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 31
- Users favorite of this poem: A Boy With Roses, L. B. Mek.
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Comments5
Damed good write, Dusk.
It's what they do when they hear me sing! heehee.
Screaming, such a base animal sound very deep DA
Great write, that's the room I d aren't go in
Bravo!
Sometimes you may run towards it to help others who are in trouble.
Andy
acute surgical - poetry, worded: so intuitively relatable
clarifying nuances, to that burdensome - baggage
carried: from one step, to our blinkered next..
subtly, brilliant!
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