Haunted shores, soft winds whisper, songs played upon a storm,
A ghost hidden in the fog, this wintry eve, these snow-filled skies,
Beauty sleeps fitfully as wolves howl, they are baying at the moon.
Strangled by some unnamed fears, drowning in a pool of tears,
Category: read poetry
Terminators, Poetry by David E. Gates
The ground is bloody, with the scars of war.
God knows what we’re fighting for.
I can’t breathe, Air’s so thin,
Nothing to stop them closing in.
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