Poems from StormAvis9417
The heat is all around
There is nothing can be done.
It starts high in branches and slowly drips down.
The brown, red, and green needles...
Nothingness.
People speak of rolling hills, but there are only
walking hills.
They say there is a soft wind, here it carries sand
and...
I am me. I am proud of that. I am like no one else on Earth, I am unique and weird. I am epic. That will never change. The storm of life...