Occasional ruckus

Wrapped in the 21^st century.
Shattering all trauma.
Which built against little empires.
Punching blindly in this fight for life.
Yet asked not to kill.

Die a little.
Crying happiness.
Lying slowly.
Counting stars.

Face first on the concrete.
Unwrapping the other side.
A tidied dream of destroying how it was.
The questions move me to new terrain.
Setting fires to light my way.

03/09/202102/09/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: change, fire, tomorrowTags: anger, change, dying, empire, fight, fire, life, lying, poem, Poetry, stars, survive, time, tomorrow, world 5 Comments