For the lost words
that we try to find,
hiding
through an echo
of a boisterous laugh,
a cry of sudden guilt,
and the grimace of ignorance
as a facade
to conceal the damned,
still looking for it.
Perhaps,
you will always be as vague
as the sight of a figure
overshadowed by the droplets of rain
and the foggy forest dawn.
Perhaps,
you are not meant to be found.
YOU ARE READING
Wonder In Chaos
PoetryJust a collection of poems I be writing whenever I feel like doing so.
