Beauty
Is something that I
Constantly, agonizingly desire.
Rummaging across streaks of
Slumbering sky, swaying softly
Across the wind.
In rainbows,
Dissected and bare like a clean fish.
Their colours fiction to light,
Distilled into deception.
A piano man rattling the marrow
Of the keys until his soul is silent.
How I see it,
Beauty isn't what it is,
But how you see it.
YOU ARE READING
Pleasure or Pain? (Poetry)
PoetryI call this my book of chaos; my sanctuary. When the turmoil inside of me resurfaces, when I've surpassed my tipping point, putting my jumbled thoughts and conflictions into words gives back the control I initially lost.
