Anonymous
Caked in dust, absorbed in other people’s memories,
Breathing crisp air at the breaking of the wall.
Tapping into the potential of everything that could be,
Barbed adrenaline furiously pumping at the gears.
Winter’s song chills the breath of those who sing it,
Icicles form on the trail of captured breath,
On the tail end of disaster that greets all with a smile,
Escaping into reality, as pieces of the subconscious die.
Plucking away at the vitality of nature’s core,
Winds howl as trees writhe in agony,
Like old bones to youthful pressure,
How we wrap our skeletons to hold in the warmth when we feel alone,
Unique vibrations that resonate are seen as glitches of the soul.
It has such a bleak
It has such a bleak and hopeless tone. I love it.
Yeah, I liked it too.
Yeah, I liked it too.
Copyright © JessterStarshine
I liked it!
I liked it!
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "
Thank you!
Thank you!