#WritcoPoemPrompt6
The river that flows down the hill,
Is never able to be a moment still,
like a caged Bird in your body
that breathes you life.
The rocks and pebbles at it's edge,
Lie as steady as the dead,
like the waters in your coconut
that you can't process.
Sprouting little boons
resembling your reasons &
creepy little creatures
showcasing your intent,
nature is ashamed
that you're all alike.

© lonely_geek