Pop Poetry: 20/100


Beau Romanowski, Staff Writer

Who is there; 

Through thick fog and cloudy glasses,

Taking them off 

I can’t see 3 feet ahead

But putting them on means the same

I have no visibility 


As I march forth the fog seems to dissipate

But as I take my breath and sigh it just creates more condensation to breathe in

The pressure so dense I’ll drown from the inside out if i can’t, move, forward


The skyline more forgiving than any rosary

And all the shooting stars still present in the evenings of Yule

For every time I am to wish i am only taken aback

But to complete favors the universe is generous and devout.

The equalization within all life constantly pursuing

Although the low thorn occasionally gashes we still continue


For although the regrown tissue makes us physically distraught and weak hopefully nothing but mind will matter in afterlife