The Heat

I see the colors of black and white
Engulfed in a sea of tears
I hear the moans and cries of spite
The cracks of rope and wails of fears

I feel the heat burn the fun
The emotions of endless shun
I smell the sickest pile of slop
Like a very moldy crop

I imagine the next morning
To end this horror
Or at least give hope
To help this nation

My rays will make the sad fine
And I, the sun, shall shine

Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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