cold pierces from within.
a familiar pain. a comfort.
my body feels fear.
my mind feels peace.
most feel discomfort
mistaking a lack of feeling
for a lack of control.
the cold is a ground
for the energy flowing within.
after all,
how can you have peace
when your thoughts are still audible?
---
Decrepit. Worn.
Stagnant in his chair,
A victim of the surroundings.
Like his children.
Like his parents.
He watches the news.
Constantly screaming.
Hating.
Angered by a world that exists only on a screen.
He rises slowly upwards.
And walks to the kitchen.
He needs another.
About the Creator
Shamus Schneider
I like reading fantasy. Every once in a while, I write a poem about something.
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Political Thirty-Three
Inevitable? A woman named Good is lost. Unforgivable. * Note: I don't think that I have to explain this one to anyone noting recent news, but I have included a video link below for future generations who can still feel empathy and compassion for someone who got caught up in history. And I was just too angry to say more with this piece.
By Kendall Defoe 4 days ago in Poets
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