Automation
When cold, they slowly spread
Icy, sleepy, dead.
When hot, it all moves so quick
Bright, fiery, slick
They say particles move by heat
Is that not deep?
Do I move because I am deep?
Or because I cannot sleep?
Fine wine pours
Suddenly, I snore
Do you know where I want to be?
I know, it does not leave me.
👁 4💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.