The letters, they swirl.
A word here,
a sentence there.
They spin, and they spin.
Every so often,
one is thrown.
No placement,
no rhythm,
just discarded.
From a merry-go-round,
it becomes a carousel.
Quickly advancing,
into a tornado -
the disaster thickens.
Building, and building,
it continues to collect,
as it tears a path.
No safe way to release,
all that madness, has consumed.
No beauty to be found,
in the wake of the aftermath.
No way out of the destruction,
that brews silently.
