Poem-A-Day: Day 29

Scrivener

Shrapnel shroud,
my exploded seas of change
in golden glowing frames of orange.
I watch the passive roots
surround my feet
and overtake the sweat,
leveling everything
in unknown sanity
like a blue glowing monster
staring me down.
He knows better than I
what will proceed
in contemplating the messages,
that reside
in the dead letter department…

although,

I would prefer not to.