Posted on 11 June, 2016
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The wind roared from high above
The anger seething through his skin
The sand piercing through his pores
His mind filled with only regret
Category: PoetryTags: amwriting, fiction, Poem, Poetry, regret, shortstory, writing
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I post on a regular basis. Though, not always consistently.
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Bones are that which keeps you here
Turn to dust and your soul will yield
Forgive this old fool
For the mistakes he’ve made
Leave me be and let the past fade
Fire rained over our heads
fume from the rocks seethed out of the ocean
Everything is quiet now
Except the gulls who shrieked and shuffled happily
Their meals now properly boiled
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