Song: Irene - Jimmy Brown
Soft petals of a flower,
Grazing the new life of a baby.
It's curious eyes drift around,
Looking up and seeing more flowers.
Red roses,
Purple lilies,
Orange peonies.
Its hand reaches out,
Brush the light of nature.
One side,
Dark clouds form.
Vines of thorns,
Wrap the wrist of the child.
Flowers are starting to wilt.
They blow away like ashes.
The child is gone.
In its place,
An adult.
They have no idea of reality.
How they once were treated,
Like a piece of glass,
So delicate.
Solid ground breaking them,
Now shattered and swept away.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Of The Rushing Mind: Eighteen
ŞiirI love poetry. My life up until eighteen has been a rollercoaster. I have grown to love writing and am slowly finding myself along the way. This is all of my work that I either submitted for class, or I was stuck in my head and had to release my tho...
