The fragments of memories being blown in the wind.
With the mist blurring everything out. Only makes them shine brighter in the night sky.
For these are not stars.
These are the flakes of memories stored in the homes of those trapped inside.
As the firefighters rush in to blow off the fire.
For these are not stars.
For these are beautifully damned memories.
-Vinnie
YOU ARE READING
Book of Flesh & Blood
PoetryIt's just a collection of my poetry. I hope you guys enjoy it. I mainly write in metaphor so you can make your own meaning of my writing. some parts have gore or sensitive topics. please be careful. Have a lovely day. make sure to take care of yours...
