deepundergroundpoetry.com

Drift

Here is the moment where we digress.
The voice raises and cracks;
 a crescendo of fire and pain.
The lack of control is the venom of absence.
 
This is the point where we diverge,
footsteps in different directions  
leading to those myriad no-wheres
where others stand waiting for our arrivals,
 
Now is the time for all good things,
just as they did before, to change;
to affect the way each meal tastes
and show just how blue an empty sky can be.
Written by PierreTheMad
Published | Edited 8th Oct 2014
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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