Weston

(poems go here) Goodnight Sky, 'Morning Death, Can you smell the yellow tears? Or see the bitter light, Piercing through to my wall? Perhaps it's best if I solve the hangman on the fridge, It only has two letters left, And not a line to spare. Silent meanderings take them all in. Breathe what you read, Exhale who you are. Path winding backwards. Illuminating mental strain. Foretold advent. Sorrowful song.