My friend has been asking me to showcase her poetry for a while now, so here it goes. Hope you enjoy.
Time is an illusion
that rapidly disintegrates
we are but micro specs
on this combusting
ball of fire. Where
poverty reaps the land
nonstop,
it eludes us.
Me, you, time
are cross lovers
of the past.
It could never be
a past without the
future.
I say this to say,
be my time lapse
where flowers grow
in the midnight.
Marlo Kisses
