thirty dour lines

it’s dreary today
the sun hasn’t
woken from slumber
the clouds promise
rains that do not fall
a pervasive sense of
overwhelmed smothers
the quietly screaming
city of partially
concealed hostilities.

even the typically
smiling faces hold tight
to an undercurrent of
dour dismalities
that weigh heavily
on an already scattered
sense of being utterly
lost in the chaos swirl
undercutting anxieties
in auspicious malaise.

it’s dreary today
the wan gray light
enhances the shadows
the clinging remnants
of nightmare snarls
soon enough though
the sun will awaken
and her ire shall bake
this world of raw emotion
into charred heartdander.

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