Talking sounds more like listening
To bursts of thunder crackling in the distance
Filling the room with static
Until the build up in our space becomes charged with rage–
Until everything has changed–
Until our bodies become nothing but pieces of wreckage:
A chaotic explosion for the barren wasteland
Where our minds are left behind to deal with the aftermath
made by our hands.
2 thoughts on “Listen”
‘bursts of thunder crackling in the distance
Filling the room with static’
Wonderful imagery in this telling poem.
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