iii. I'M A RECKLESS WIND
- WRITTEN: JANUARY SIXTEENTH TWO THOUSAND SIXTEEN -
- POSTED: JANUARY SIXTEENTH TWO THOUSAND SIXTEEN -
Everything around me is more prone to be broken.
Glass.
Ceramic.
Bones.
Hearts.
I am a reckless wind; it's who I am.
It's not like I can stop being who I am.
Right?
Hurricanes are dangerous and horrifying and destroy everything in their path.
Maybe they don't mean it!
They just don't know how to stop it – much like me.
I may look like a ray of sunshine
And I may say I am as cute as a rose,
But the sun burns and roses have thorns.
If you take the heat from the sun,
We're all left in a world of darkness;
Frigid and sad;
If you cut the thorns from the rose,
How will it protect itself?
It won't.
I might just ruin you [by accident].
But what's life without a little risk?
YOU ARE READING
celestial
Poetry"positioned in or relating to the sky, or outer space" because everyone I love, loved, and will ever love does, has, and will fascinate me much like the stars in the sky do.
