Leap Year Poetry

Closed Boarders.

My villages are protected, 
My lands have closed borders,
Visitors are prohibited.
They only bring havoc to my land. 
Town center seems to be the main attacking point.
The one place that pumps life into my land, 
Sixty to one hundred pumps a minute. 
They never read the signs telling them to enter with care, 
Instead they rip down my walls, 
Smash my windows, 
And turn the rest to ashes.
After the attacks my villages are left desolate.
Even if there were kind visitors, 
They wouldn’t want to stay.
Because no one wants to stay in a damaged village.

The Day Dream 
As if it were a scene made up by the mind, 
I step into a wave of flowers painted by reflections of light. 
A green cast in the air comes from the sun beaming through the trees.
Apologies stream through my head as my feet suffocate the grass under my shoes. 
I see him, 
Across the field.
My laughter fills the silent meadow as I think of the idiotic jokes he always tells.
He waits for me at the end.
So we can finally be.
Forever. 
​

Stagnant. 

Days as this make me feel alone.
Why cant i just pick up the phone? 
For what?
For them to tell me that I'm just missing home?
In a cracked dome with air that feels like stone. 
Nowhere I planned to be,
feeling uneven like an odd three.