So God-Damned Bitter

A Poem About Running Away

Photo by Nuno Antunes on Unsplash

There was something in the wind

this morning.

A haunting breeze, smelled of thunder.


There, up over the mountain, a promise

of a better day —

or a lie, I wonder.


This world makes you make

money at any cost,

leaves the streets all red and bloody.


I wanna sit beneath the trees

but we burn them to make paper.

We print it almost just as green,

God damn, it makes me bitter.


I’m getting in my car. I’m done.

It's burning in my blood.

I’ll hide it in the rivers.

I’ll sleep in the mud.

[embed]https://medium.com/the-power-of-poetry/the-power-of-poetry-3d8dfd2beecc[/embed]

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Life in Increments

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From the Ghost on the Moon