eyes shift
heads turn
hearts grow cold
the bountiful garden of our souls withers and die
with every pluck, tore, and act of neglect we perform on the ones that deserve the most light shine upon them
which we forget is all
each sampling can't have its own roots dug so deep and wide
that adjacent flowers can't blossom and breathe in life
if only we were as quick to share what makes us feel complete
as we are to shift our eyes
turn our heads
hoping for red to turn green
and wheels to rotate fast enough
to forget about the hands held up that we let remain deplete.
YOU ARE READING
meraki
Poetry☁️ | wander through my thoughts. all my experiences, realizations, decisions, vibes...attempted to be placed into rhythmic tone as a summary of my life. I hope for this to become a place of comfort for anyone who needs it. Poetry is a beautiful way...
