Where the roots
meet the road-
Is a blossom,
A bloom,
Near the sear
Of hot asphalt.
It inspires,
While it
Transpires.
And lives
Simply,
To die.
All the while,
We sit and watch,
And pass it by,
We don't realize
That we all
Live a lie.
Life is cruel they say,
That is only true
If you make it.
Feel the breeze
Brush your skin,
And fill with ease.
Today is fleeting;
Keep living for tomorrow's sake.
Face the sun, your own flower.
Chin up, eyes bright.
Sense the warmth,
In dying light.
YOU ARE READING
Broken Glass and Bloody Fists
PoetryAnother cover by Saccstry. It's the fourth book of the series you guys, I'm pretty proud of how far I've gotten. Thanks everyone. The art of some chapters will be between myself and Chiara Bautista, as well as photos I've taken and want to share wit...
