– rush hour.
in a pond of lotuses so dainty,
a water lily; i am.
in a troupe of all similarities,
a difference; i made.
in a world of so many beating hearts,
it's only mine; i trust.
in a tavern of everything frozen,
with my flames; i burn.
out are everyone in their rush hour,
and yet it's me; all idle.
YOU ARE READING
swevens of vernorexia
Poetryi shall bloom flowers of love in your heart, so you may bleed petals for blood when i leave.
