(zoysia-species of creeping grasses, found in coastal areas or grasslands)
For everyone expecting a sunny Monday
you will be very disappointing..for it is the end of the world.
As I look deep behind the illuminating clouds, the sky is tearing.
I lay in thick zoysia on such a glorious day.
The prickly feel distracts me of perfect pandemonium.
I sit up to witness the fears of worried citizens....and nothing is more amusing or pitiful.
"Time is free but once you spend it, you can never get it back."
I stand watching the people rebel against the hand life has dealt them. This results when the world changes faster than people...we will perish together as fools.
Above me the sky clouded over, rain drops give rest to adamant fears.
Just when I construct the perfect poem.... the world ends.
