The clouds parted and a silver of sunlight hit the land. Snow covered trees glittered under the sun's attention as their bare arms stretch towards the sky yearning for warmth. A lone figure wandered into this picture of winter wonderland. Smearing the perfection with her footprints tarnishing the purity of weightlessness. Her footprints are a reminder of her imperfection and of the numbers that are her sins.
105
100
98
95
90
Too many pounds to count until her desires are answered. Too many centuries of starving until her dreams of:
I want to walk in the snow. And not leave a footprint.
I want to walk in the snow. And not soil it's purity.
YOU ARE READING
Undone
PoetryA hodgepodge of topics that mostly deal with mental health written as poems or prose.
