The roses on the rose bush
standing outside of my house
has finally begun to bloom,
the sweet & sharp grass
that was left browning
has begun to grow,
and the natural alarm clock
of the birds in all of their flocks
has begun to wake the region,
the snow that wouldn't leave our sight
has begun to disappear
into the atmosphere,
but their little white eyes are still wide
watching our sadness dissipate
while they are stuck
far into the atmosphere, they are desperately clinging onto
waiting for their time to begin again,
eagerly waiting for our turn
to become ridden with sadness
and trade it for happiness
so they can become a beautiful thing
we wake up to.
YOU ARE READING
The Muse Of Nature & Incomprehensible Torture (poetry & prose)
PoetryThis collection of poetry and prose is all about my life, from the very beginning to very recently. It's a tale of my childhood, relationships of all kinds, all sorts of breakups, trauma, the ups and downs of being a teenage human, and the waves of...
