29 April 2009

Burning

The clouds melted,
From above our heads
And fell, onto our world.

The leaves drenched in grey,
Hang limp from mossy limbs
And looms, over our heads.

But how long must we stay here?
Beneath their world
Beneath it all?

The melted grey doesn't reach
Our hot world, and our
skins keep burning, burning

Burning.