Mellifluous Murmurs

Thorns

Losing myself is my number one fear,

but I seem so pure, and especially so dear.

O' goodness, help me go through this thoughtless mess of a storm,

for accomplishing my deepest desires might release my inner child and finally let itself perform.

I shall pick myself up and shake off the dust,

to prevent my wicked intelligence of a brain to rust.

Its lust of causing great jeopardy awakens and hunts,

for a great destruction of a foul leads onto useless grunts.

Love leads it way onto the dwelling of pure blood red,

which concludes itself onto the suffocation of the dead.

The will to try and fight is found in every of one,

the iridescent result ends up decisive yet done.

Solitude is what graves the feelings of a man and soars,

so high that it shows life's miseries and open doors.

My powerful sense of an open book presents itself on display,

just like the inlet of sea onto the dock of a bay.

I am once again utterly dandy and pleased,

while my thoughts currently bedazzle itself, my life has finally breezed.

You are who you are,

special, beautiful, intelligent, and of course insanely bizarre.

My one desire of a sense creeps onto a path,

dangerous, but the complete opposite of one calls a wrath.

I am yet a longing child with no living as of what may seem like an act,

but I may seem different to you and that's certainly a daring fact.

You can never get passed such a poetess, said the man,

but I replied as smart as any adolescent would, "maybe I can."

This may be the end, but not of us,

please let me pass easy, and don't make this a pointless fuss.

Confidence built up onto my soul,

invalid, indecisive, but it's there and it is certainly not a fixed role.

My poetry spreads onto a sheet like butter onto toast,

not like how an innocent chicken cooks atop of a roast.

The words may seem rosy yet wise,

but deep down, the utter letters sing a tune of their cries.

Beauty is one of the most magnificent features,

of that is why humans follow its path to becoming the best and almighty creatures.

The dusk sky sings a hollow tune,

as the sky paints itself colorless, the night passes with the appearance of a glowing moon.

Struggles may appear as predicaments and times of fire,

but on the most shallow depth of my heart, it remains as a pleasurable desire.

To seek one's love is like a misery of disdain,

full of sorrow, yet love and extreme pain.