The Locust

The oncoming chaotic storm,

has us on guard to ensure,

safety from the conflict the catastrophe,

physical atrophy, an inevitability,

let us not pretend, there is nothing really here to defend,

the waves crash upon the shore,

lilac, teal, blue, all come forth,

stream of awareness, we watch the madness,

the ebbing and receding of the colours, that have tainted our minds our mirrors,

could it be any clearer? As the end draws nearer…

this enemy of mine,

this falsity, this thing called time,

stopping me in my tracks,

when all I wanted to do was turn it back,

now we must work with what is,

and remember our original wish,

how it is leading us to our bliss,

so long as we are willing to fall and find the means to rise,

over and over again till the final goodbye,

I cannot stay,

I don’t have the time to play,

and certain things have been in the way,

for too long now,

my vision blurry now focused

resembling that of a locust.

murky waters,

lambs to the slaughter,

no more,

lines must be drawn.

Faatima

 

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