The Floods Are Coming
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This poem is about greediness,
that sets in motion a hand that steals.
Hide if you will,
karma is always patient,
and she eventually finds you.
Dont you worry about
my cloudy sky,
for I was born
under it.
The reasons why,
is right here,
and It's here,
where I sit.
But that's the concern,
of the authorities,
as precious time,
still ticks away.
There's reasons why,
A heart stopped beating,
call me a fool,
call me a liar.
Anyone with a nose,
can smell it,
the poison,
the stench of cover ups.
She put them in the grave,
then dug them up,
because they weren't,
dead enough for her.
Sackcloth and ashes,
the height of her fashion,
her strange and vile little world,
surrounding herself with grey.
Her light was dark,
the black and white,
of right and wrong,
didn't matter to her.
Not with knowledge,
but with guesswork,
she hung the laundry out,
already dried.
It's the reason I sit,
under clouds waiting,
for the rains,
to justify.`
Copyright © Vickie Hurtt - Thayer | Year Posted 2023
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