Brittle little tippy tap toes painted cruelly on the cool furnished floor,
Tick tock tick of rapid wall timer was ticking the fear presence of her moonlit free,
'Is it me? Has it always been me? What do you want from me? Why do you want to punch me?
Bold choreograph of noises inside her thoughts broke the alive clock with a roar,
A chastised laugh fell from her lips as she stared down on the falling red glassy deep,
Chandelier's low, planted abyssal grip over hear head with thoughts yelled no skip,
When the pale rise of breathe failed from her core,
Glistening pain of crystal blades can only sing more.
Error Out! Microphone host of aggressive rocket grumblings,
Crisp rendezvous of the shiny silver sharp and the hallucinating drugs of stumbling,
Pool fright right by her side; therefore, Luna encouraged a second thought on rumbling,
Mirror atop and only can access the reflection of the tiled wall with a face of bumbling.
Thick click of ungrasp silver blade before her knees stretch into a standing ovation,
Behind those eyes where she stabbed her ancient oblivion,
Pretty little sketch were empowered with nutritious followers and compliments,
She often wonders where hers could have been; was it lost? Or was it already broken?
YOU ARE READING
The Rumblings of Luna
PoetryINTRODUCTION The existence of her sixteen years has narrowed herself upon the illuminous environment when only the mute lass tried to surround herself from the healthy community. Luna's unfamiliarity and weakness to herself become relevant and bold...
