The weed did creep
revealing the
slack in our towns
of concrete their
roots spin and whirl
taking grip in
the crack of our
retreat with a
curl
it searches for
the light a glimpse
of what we for-
got, Lord knows what
looms for us our
eyes did strain to
see the stain of
blood coming for
us.
Authors note: I have not one clue about the different formations of ‘poetry’, so forgive my attempt at some kind of… well, whatever the fuck it is…
silverbackgorillapoetry.com 
I like this take
>
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks
LikeLike
🤣 This is awesome! I was honestly trying to figure it out until I read your last comment about you not having a clue either. That’s cool!
LikeLike