Thursday, July 2, 2015

Poetry

We were once a large ship,
That held strong on stormy seas,
However, all that's left now
Is the wreck of what used to be
The wreckage floating gently,
As the waves bob up and down
Everything caught in a whirlpool,
Swirling gently round and round
Crashing hard on rocky beaches,
Sand flying everywhere
The wood is crashing, rotting deep,
All that is left is despair
No amount of storming
Can clear this beach of sadness
The more storms that hit the beach,
It deepens the descent into madness.

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