Spinning Rock

The earth sprouts new life like love grows attachment and clings on  tight.

Like a new-born bird taking flight for the first time, leaving the nest, taking chances.

Like a cub hunting its first kill, watching, waiting in the shadows, ready to kill.

Like a fast flowing river travelling in one lonely direction to the greater edge of madness.

Like a fool, always careless, hoping to find enjoyment in the greater destruction of others.

On this spinning rock of ours, we wander, careless, blind, dark, sad, scared, all in hope to find paradise.

Darkness consumes - eating away at all that is this spinning rock.

But not me.

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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