the beast that shakes the eartMature

Lately all I taste is bitterness in the back of my throat.
Nothing washes it down, nothing wipes it away. It sours everything.

We are the earthquake swallowing up this house.
We are the thunderstorm pouring down, drowning all the trinkets
and stowaway memories we’ve gathered here for all these years.  

Our hearts are waterlogged and sinking.

In the aching hours before sunset we wash our hands of the muck
and tell ourselves the storm has passed; that we can collect whatever
managed to survive and rebuild where we left off.

But the earth,she caves in wherever we stand for too long.  
She is worn down and weakened by the constant destruction we inflict upon her.

Devastation is our name and we burn it into everything we touch.

The End

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