A wall of grey greets the day
as always.
Baited breath holds back the rains
that storm through the winds,
Resting on the tension that
drags and drags and drags.

Roots fall left to right,
right to left, between concrete hands
outstretched to their myths.
The rains still haven’t come,
Yet the winds
Tear away the empty breaths.

Under shelter the rope snaps,
Calling out to the floods
away, away with me.
The winds hiss and spit
on the still dreaming soul below,
Trapped in red, by red, in red.



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