runaway son
Mooing cows in distance
breaking vows of the night
and silence.
Their skin suffer the cold,
bugs akin vampires and
rain.
I drive through blizzard
to arrive before a dragon's
den.
Fireplace quarreling with gods
A place I called home is now
ashes. gone.
The firemen try to save the phoenix, none
'twas godsend flicker of a dying spark
behind me.
I praise the devil or divine that who
raised hell or smote my prison then,
miles away.
This is my day 54 entry of the 100 days of poetry by
from SteemitSchool.
If you like what I'm doing here, help me out to get me some visibility and add me to your steemvoter. It's been more than three month of this goddamnit.