Woebegone

Surrounded by ripples of disturbance.

Quivers of motion

Fast forwarded into futuristic moments.

Captions kidnapped by pictures turned senseless.

Words gesticulate the fluctuation of symbols.

Strewed hastily the nets of rope,

Castaways beware,

Unearthing is near.

Isolation of a sandy island

Glass covered beaches

Impossible rock sheers.

Forsaken mumbles in despair,

No casts to belong

Or factions to yield.

Raized are things that aren't here.

Lone whispers in a dark

Lifeless purple fire

That presses the rage.

That determines the fate.

That says the lonely.

Author's Note

What can I do to twist this poem for the better?