She reached her fingers through
The soul,
Trying to unearth.
She tried but
Was weak.
A mantra: blood, heart, sights, sounds,
Sang into whimpering beat.
She shattered into
The world,
Surface quaking.
There, in her nook she sat in
Peaceful silence.
The calm before
The storm.
Met with
Eerie violence and
Alone.
Oddly pleasant,
The empty.
She closed her eyes and
Let go.
YOU ARE READING
Poesy and Prose
PoetryContaining songs, dreams, poems, and prose, this is a collection of my inner-most ramblings. When I need to unwind, I write.
