* This piece was entered into a contest where you could write fifty words, and fifty words only. The prompt was "cyclone", and this was my take on the subject. It went on to wind the gold trophy, so I was thrilled, and a little surprised.
Spiraling, the cyclone needs to be lassoed,
its path like a rustic obstacle course,
without a care or a bother,
desecrating mystic truths,
leaving behind bitter debris,
and stolen lives,
to all it consumed,
like a reckless baby
bouncing its way
over scattered toys.
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