Red Horizons

Red Horizons

Red horizon, all throughout
Crispy, burnt to the ground.

Burning seas of smoke,
Everywhere we look
A world in flames.

Knocking, knocking,
The skeletal hand at the door
Drops the broken clock at our feet.

1/20

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Andy McRae

I have been writing poetry for the last 13 years. It all started as an assignment for a creative writing course. I never thought I would like writing, as I am dyslexic and language was always a struggle for me, but I fell in love with the art form in that class.

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