Weathered
Mist and drizzle, and a malice that sizzles
From a searing soul, through it's tearing holes
and a heart torn apart that's just bleeding out art
and that's only the start.
Thunderous roars like the plunderous hoards
Who are hollow when whole and will swallow your goals,
While they're grinding the gears of too many fears
Like a lightning that leers in a windstorm that shears.
Then the force of falling to leave you coarse and calling.
No remorse for your bawling
Out any old name that might be keeping you sane
As the sky gets grounded, like a lie, unfounded.
-Andrew J. Golubiewski-
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