Filling the lungs inhale
Like thousands of flies buzzing
Choking like rough hay bale.
Like third world suffering
Maybe watering if bothered
Let it thrive living.
Your vision strains eyes squint
No water, grass all brown
Dry air don't play with flint.
Even a good drop of sweat
A little breeze just to cope
Gentle touch skins cool and wet.
I can't seem to find the mojo to write a poem I can say sings true in me as I write them. This current practice is not up to par and I apologize for even posting it but I have to document what I write so I can later on look at it and hope I can learn where I can improve. It is ambiguous but not enough and the meanings I had tried to outline without spelling them out seems to be beyond even myself when I read the poem again.
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