By Ben Vest
Swirling blue skies, The clouds come rolling in, The look within its eyes, Knowing that nature wins, The wind’s screaming cries, Prevailing the inversion from within, All these pixelated lies, Should be thrown in a bin. Stand steady I could show you the ropes, Quickly before the rain, Floods the bouncing bunny slopes, Or consumed with frost bitten pain, The only way to cope, Is to go down the drain, To display this trope, That humanity’s insane. When that mental exhaustion takes over, Covering up the blue sky, The echos of thunder, The opening to pry, Those rabbits scutter, Leaving the other to die, No need to bother, No need to cry. A skeletal bird branches out, The framework absurd, Dividing the route, Ice preserved, The layers of doubt, Flying reversed, The feathers without, Living the curse. With a panoramic view, The peripherals in question, Always seeing something new, Eyes trick perception, What you see is true, When you get that realization, That the vortex blew, Opening portals to an unknown destination.
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© Original Artwork Copyright Ben Vest. All rights reserved.