My Poetry

Blood and Stones.

He stood there.

 

Co-existing with

Water

Grass

Mountains

Every form of a beating heart.

 

He looked down.

 

He was too busy

In the rocks

To notice

The gray sky cast above.

 

He chose the rocks.

 

Over the

Water

Grass

Mountains

His heart.

 

He chose the rocks.

The

Sulking

Dark

Gray

Dehydrated

Rocks.

 

They were given to him in a trophy,

a trophy

free of fingerprints and DNA.

 

And he shook the rocks.

 

The rocks

Shook

Howled

And bruised

 

Until they bled to death.

 

Now the rocks are no more.

 

Then the mountains were no more.

And the grass was no more.

 

Now all that remains is the blood at his feet,

the grayer sky above his head,

 

 

And the calm isolation in his heart

because he sacrificed the death of all

for himself.

 

thanks for reading! This was inspired by an image, from a Tarot Card. Hope you enjoyed reading! Comment your thoughts below and subscribe right below! Happy Sunday, everyone! 

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