A sTorM

See... how the mists scribble
tendrils
Of hair on chalk white
A zombie in rain times, chalk
face with no fight
See... how the lightening is
laughing with razor sharp
teeth, biting out chunks of all
pathways beneath
And a thunder is screeching
with god awful glee leaving all
kinds of nothings and
nowheres to flee, and a wind
writes its words in damp
tendils of hair,
writes on faces chalk white,
writes...you're going nowhere
M P 22/6/21
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