Morning dews of solemn tales comes slowly
Towards the icy, cold shivers of the Witch,
It showers its deathly body, with clutching, harvesting tips
And aids itself, from the dreary norm.
Can one forgive the tidings, for it is quite erratic,
Feeling of lost and unwanted bindings softens them
Them, forthwith their selfish intent,
Carves themselves a frightless hole
And sink deep, deeper into foreboding close.
My wants, is my givings,
A giving for nature sought,
Of wanderlust and cradled dreams,
Of an emptiness that's filled.
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A Float through Night Skies and Other Poems in Youth
PoetryA Float Through Night Skies and other Poems in Youth is a poetry collection written from the eyes of an existential and disenfranchised youth. It details themes such as Love, Family, Loneliness, Desperation, Transcendence as well as Suicide. These p...
