Thin air suffocates,
Unwitting fools who dare tread,
Upon sacred heights.
How does it work?
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.
More stories from L. Sullivan and writers in Poets and other communities.
Someone always wins, In this game of numbers and probability, In this dice roll, But not always a prize. Each of us weighted,
By L. Sullivan 3 years ago in Poets
It is my anniversary How do I celebrate 365 days of Bipolar 1 Depression? Broken Stalled Despite my hospitalisations I have failed to establish safety, then recovery
By Pauline Fountain6 days ago in Poets
Its Raining My Life Away It started quietly, not enough to notice at first, just a feeling that something was off, like the air had changed
By George’s Girl 2026 2 days ago in Poets
Before they departed for the funeral it rained, heavy drops lashing the rocky drive along the edges of the parked cars even as the sun shone eerily in the distance. As quickly as it began it stopped a few minutes later, the water that cascaded a few moments earlier down Young Street rising in curling waves of steam.
By John Cox3 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.