Lora Cooley

Rookie - 0 Points (September 28 / San Diego)

Future Wars - Poem by Lora Cooley

Gather like storms as the night turns its skin into coal
Dark but cluttered with gold

You are nothing less than angels cast down covered in the bloodiest mess of this world
Said a torn little girl
A sweet wreck of a soul

Blood was running down her flesh left in sections while she was sleeping with all her fingers crossed
Hoping that the distance wouldn't grow
But how it grew
And how it hurt
It hollowed every memory conjured up to kill her

But now she's smiling
With herself put back together
A shadow of the past all sewn together
Sick from storms
Sick of waiting for a God

What a bunch of fools we are
You are nothing more
Than a pathetic little child
I am embarrassed for you

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Poem Submitted: Friday, May 18, 2012

Poem Edited: Friday, November 16, 2012

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