Mar 7
1 min read
Hailstorm.
A Poem.
Hailstorm.
She never wished war.
She had heard it all before.
Guns blaze: she ducks, and she curls in a ball.
This is exactly what she warns, as she falls.
She falls.
Night calls.
Dreams don’t come often —
Simply put, I write poetry. Each poem, representative of segments from my own life experiences. With hopes— they may resonate with my fellow human. Thank you.
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