The Tyrant Snow Storm

on

The flow of the vibrant wind blows vigorously pass my curtains lashing by my ear drums and away with my front door
triggering exciting pulsation

giant trees bow down trough out the island now there’s no silence
roofs now migrants i must tend to the horrible crying of Byron’s
as sirens of terror wailed across the hall to god grown men made boisterous call
0 degrees reads the climate  expressions bends, bad timing for smiling for this storm is a tyrant without warrant

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