Anticipation

What could have been and what is
stories that reverberate through my spine
unstabbed back, but the dagger can strike
to change my shape forever

I look forward to some, but am terrified of
drums; that invisible pen which writes my fate
sprinkles ink on my budding blooms
garden of hope; on the tentacles of a storm

Anticipation – the monster rips my innards
I can’t sleep, I can’t breathe, but the magical
dreams walk hand-in-hand with shadows unknown
Uncertainty of Fate drives growth


Poetics: Personifying the Abstract

W3 Prompt #152

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