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Lines against Storms
Blowing storm, recalling whistling wind
Reaching my ears, while it comes closer
Phrases carrying on, having no end
As tempest crawled to my door locker,
Heart beating, racing the incident
Warning my lines of forcing smasher
Its role must be accomplished
Absolutely with no compassion,
Sentences are being linked
As meaning getting warmer
Shielding bleeding ink
From outsider torture,
Yet, the terrified moment occurred
Swallowed each speaking sheet’s corner
Though all copies stil kept, and heard
For every part of me, is a recorder.
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