Butterscotch pie

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dark place.

dark space. 

All I do is pace

all over the place.

I live in this dark world.

all by my self.


A bright light..

brighter than I'll ever be.

shining, shining

a hand reaches out to me.

the warmth.

the color.

the smell of butterscotch pie.

like a sweet sorrow,

it presents itself a saint.

all I've ever wanted 

it has made me its acquaint.

The Taxonomy of Someone Named Me. (poetry by yzaa.vna)Where stories live. Discover now