Breathe


A breath of air.
Only for a chance to nourish the two
godward designed equipment.
Forgetful fun with a phase brought
upon by a manipulated system.
A once rich. Strong. Now diminished a source taken for granted.
A smoke of a plague
fond in destroying my beautifully set equipment.
Yet this equipment has no repair.
Gray. The color of the marker painted.
Broken. Broken. Destroyed.
Now one more breath too late.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem