Ranting

Just that ranting.

Ranting

 

The tool is at hand, the page

is waiting.

The mind is of age;

Wonder what’s my rating?

 

The words are simple,

Honest like a pimple

on a twelve year old's face.

-With this thought my mind begins to race.

 

I see the streets littered,

The multitude bitter,

The heat rising in December

and fire, purple, red, orange amber.

 

Reviews

[Baby Ricochet]

Good one

[Inda]

Glad you liked it!

[Tree]

I like the imagery Inda, there is a power in this. A force, behind your words. And the way you finished in that last stanza. will stick with me...

Diego

[Inda]

Thanks Diego means a lot. :)