children songs and lullabies
used to tuck me in, good night
but when I saw them in a different light
they were whispers of death, I realized
the good old melody
resonating in my room
were screams of lilies
destroyed during their bloom
the soft yet intoxicating sound
of an ancient ballad's mellow
were muffled screams of help
entrapped within my pillows
drakoyne 彡
YOU ARE READING
Ivy Indigo
Poésiea short poetic story of an ivy whose roots climbed the wrong walls, and yet found home in another's house of stone.
