The Grimace

The Grimace the rain holds
Is unrelenting.
Mixed with the fear and grief
Swept in like a blizzard
Quelching any hint of green hope.
The world has shut its doors.

Some suffer
With rabid solace
And fatigue of the unknown
pangs of misery held inside.
Like a empty unknown glass bottle.
Reflecting the good of the world.
Yet holding the power to conquer
even the strongest.

Rabid solace like the coals of a fire
Erupting in dead sparks.
heating nothing.
Save the dirt below.
Like a London novel.

The grace of the snow sweeps any pleasantry of landscape into white.
Blinding white.
A walking cane will not help.

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