Red dust
Gathering in the orchestra pit between the strings and brass
A little mound rumbles
Like a town
Conceived by an opus
I am of the town
And bombs were upon us
Our heads hum
On the minute
Like clockwork, they burst
Into a solemn sun
The kids were sat down and told what to think. Their colourful minds turned to black ink. They were told what to write. And told what to...
violent content ahead: reader discretion advised Who knew I could be so scared of myself? I run from the shadow of who I was and yet it’s...
The PTSD, he Heads like a herald To dawn his new clothes In the iridescence Of a pit Edged into me Like a hook Caught in the gills Of a...