Poetry

taunting badlands beg to be trod,
plow the barren womb,
just to stir the dust,
that has remained a testament to,
the stasis of forgotten fertility.

wilting windowsill willow,
weeping lilacs,
watch the wet,
pour,
and tell us where you would rather be.


criticism and commentary required, please

Commentary required?
Man, i'm too tired
cause you aint got a whole lotta stiez
and you didnt even remember to say please