poetry, randomwordbyruth, ugliness

No More Tree to Hug


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The calm before…someone else’s storm.

The path after…someone else’s storm.

Perchance, a place where none belong.

Either route…

Sometimes gentle.

Sometimes…strong.

Could be…

This is a hand…of extinction,

played wrong.

Ψ

No!

No, hysterical waif could produce this wake.

No!

No, bias to her game.

No, storm will produce…her name.

Soon, mortality will relinquish our fame.

Ψ

Too soon.

No massive emptying will suit all needs.

No more…

Later, for bluffing our dirty deeds.

 

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