A poets rose to the
ground.
Beaten by the path of wind.
On a sunny day.
July
Nobody was crying.
Nobody even watched.
Finger tips dripping.
Holding life in.
Letting life out.
After the battles won.
A slow drift, A drop
Synthetic flower
feels like cotton
So real, and fake.
Four minutes till sundown.
Orange skies, Warm goodbyes.
Permanent Darkness.
The true fear.
Alone.
An Echo