Desert sand all around.
Lost and not found.
Sun beats upon my soul.
Dying like a goldfish in a waterless fishbowl.
Above vultures fly.
Waiting for my breath to die.
All around dry torturous sand.
No guardian angel to give me a helping hand.
About my loved ones I do emotionally think.
Christ my throat does need a cold liquid drink.
I do wish this nightmare was just a dream.
Above my head, die die, vultures hungrily scream.
Then lights out.
Peace, and no more sand about.
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Author:
Wallace (
Offline) - Published: January 13th, 2018 00:29
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 6
Offline)
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