Title: Old truck
Its chipping paint falls gracefully down onto the spring forest ground.
Its past, unknown and unquestioned.
Past colors mix with the colors of the scarlet dusk sky.
When the wind blows the chipped paint fragments spread telling their silent stories.
Sometimes being quiet does not always mean sadness, sometimes it is contentment.
Opening doors is impossible, but breaking windows are unthought about.
The only things that lie in the metal truck is a key, a hair clip, and a golden lighter.
Its seats are brand new and not aged.
Old truck, unknown, and unquestioned.
Confusing.
When you get in, tell me how it feels to be young again.
YOU ARE READING
Poems?...
PuisiJust some edgy poems, and just random thoughts. I'll update when I want. Yeah, or you can ask me questions. So...yeah. Enjoy? ALSO WARNING ⚠️⚠️ some of these may contain some subjects that may trigger or make some people uncomfortable (ex. Self harm...
