To the thriving addiction towards petrichor
By Breeze on
Poetry
The chaos, the city lights, the mayhem
The missing feeling of living in a day dream;
The cloud, the darkness, the rain
The water sweeping out,
Leaving the lungs a need for air
The better feeling of silence of a graveyard,
Then sitting between living,
Listening to their chaos.
The thunder the windfall the storm
Screaming go home,
Till the world tears apart.
The beggary of name
That can't be reckoned
Half the world has it,
Other half being still born