This has to be officially the first poem I've ever written on my own with no prompt and no real reason. I didn't write it for school. It just came to me, and I felt I needed to get it typed. Don't expect any more. I like to stick to drawing. Can You Feel It? Something’s coming. Can you feel it? Like apprehension on the wind? Like anxiousness in the ground? It blows the smoke onto your face, You must breathe it and choke. It vibrates through your shoes, You must feel it and trip. Fires on the horizon; Red dawn of smoke. The rush of wings, The reaper coming for another swing. What is coming?
