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The golden threads strung together like an amber forest,
A gleaming crop of fire you cannot harvest.
The ornaments 'rounding it cry over their miseries,
The spilled wines spiral into each other, sharing their haunted memories.
They stain the scratched crystal blade frozen with fear,
Holding up wilted red petals on the dried blood they smear.
Pluck, Pluck, Pluck
'Hear my soft tunes,
I shall not disappoint you'
'I will trap your sadness within me,
I have heard all your pleas."
Its lovely warmth shies away the morning sun,
An ethereal melody you might not want to shun.
The tearing gowns open the closet of malice they always stay in,
Wheels of rainbow cloth perk up and spin.
A sweet scent caresses the instrument, intrigued by its sound,
A song in which the midnight vases wish to be drowned.
Pluck! Pluck! Pluck!
'Forget your despairing dreams,
if only for a moment'
'Breathe in my healing harmonies,
A tranquil heaven you ascend.'
The dancing humans move to your wounded beats,
But they will never hear its rising symphony.
Pluck...Pluck...Pluck...
'I see every part of you-
Tearing roses and sour liquor;
A velvet dress measuring its worth;
Sapphire daggers and pots of dirt.'
Brightening their nightly souls,
if only for a moment,
Do not take any blame for your forced roles.
'Let us not fall for their vile tricks,
We shall just enjoy the serene music.'
-Grisha. S
YOU ARE READING
DROPS OF SCARLET
PoetryFeatured on @WattpadPoetry reading list 'Stygian Skies' "I dream as a soulless spirit where the only music I hear is the drops of scarlet" This poetry collection follows the tales of three women lost in the past and objects they surround themselves...
