Shipwreck

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Shipwreck

Only God knows, while the scream gets
louder..

Splinters tearing my knees apart..

Rolling to my back to face the rain..

Wind raising my shirt to my neck..

Water that should have been drank
years ago now flooded my soul..

Sips of memories, caress my parched
lips..

Cold seas held the foam..

Galent strikes of lightening try
to wake me..

Quest of thought hold..

I feel so lite, a gentle hand
guiding..

Bubbles finding the sun as they burst..

Arms waving to no one..


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Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

silver250’s Poems (6)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Dinner 1
Sword 2 0
Sword 1 0
Radio 0
Shipwreck 0
Poem for Dummies 0