The crinkled paper blew
edge over edge over edge over...
--discarded refuse
crunched beneath hot rubber
stuck to flattened double bubble
upon the searing black.
The crinkled paper blew
edge over edge over edge over...
--discarded words
crunched beneath angry feet
stuck helplessly, unyeilding
searing into the mind of the girl.
The crinkled paper blew
edge over edge over edge over...
--discarded message
crunched in fear and pain
stuck in time as real
as the searing black pavement.
The crinkled paper blew.
Just wrote this poem today. I imagined how I could creatively put how I felt about the bad news I received today. There wasn't actually a paper but I imagined if there was a paper with the words that this is what would play out. I know many people can associate bad news with something similar to this. ~T
