Posted in Poems

On The Go

I walked the marsh
With fear snaking up my hills
I walked the marsh
Where the harsh lands often yield
The focus of terror
The hate of tomorrow
The fear of the dawn
The bright of the dark
The lives with a seal
Of blood and turmoil
Their spirits still crying
From their ground, filled with oil
If only we could see
The life of the dead
The bright of the dark
The lies in our heads
Then we may flow
As a river or bow
Then we’d be happy
To live on the go

Author:

I'm a writer, filmmaker, and Human. I think...

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