We are Frost
From atop my reptilian mount
I behold the world's dark
The foaming oceans blue
The burning seas of wood
Dead worlds entrance bare
Slinking weasels dance
Words, I've gone into a trance
Rotting wood my grave
Are you there, my rare
Doves fallen from air
Deer going mad
Sing to me of death
Are we still here, why
I might say, if not on my way
Turned from falling rubble
Given in, to discard the human race
Wake in terror, volcanic fissures
Open in malls, women and children
Die in painful moves
Pain only grows
Daggers in their eyes
Blind drive by, taking lives
Of helpless girls and boys
Of course we all die
So why cry
Over a world split over
Molten cubes
Stir until renewed
But we will not be there
Too many lost
Buildings tossed
We are frost.
9/21/20 – Andy McRae
RadioactivePoetry 