The disaster of empathy

From “The colour of wheatfields”


Drops running on a string

I get wet even with the sun shining

Selfless desires and shared feelings

I know when you’re not scared and I know when you should be.

 

I can see you headed for the wasp nest and can already feel the stings.

You haven’t yet climbed the tree

And I can see you falling.

 

I guess the waterfall from the sounds of the river.

I hear the spark of a fire, I already smell the woods burning.

I see the bones under your flesh, I see the wolves eating.

The blood moon that foreshadows a disaster.


Creative Commons License” style=
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s