Twas always a myth
A nasty lie
Her screams shook my morals,
Her cries dried my vain.
How cruel can be light,
Memories of march , the kinetic apocalypse.
Ninth prison
Several eyelashes
And a single beauty
Smiles simmered in the shadows
Her voice narrowed streams
Silence voiced her existence.
Her soul survived the thrust
Her mind, too crimson
Swords on her mercury,
her lovely chateau
Peace lit havocs
And dreams grinned a misery
She , unaware,
Died a thunder,
And a million iotas,
How harsh that someone
Recursive magentas, resonating mirages
That unfelt autumn ,
That untold chandelier,
That unsent prayers ,
That unveiled igneous.
She , alive, alone , awake
Shadowing questions,
the thorns in her heart, the please of the mind,
Still surviving ,
The meteors of her own moon,
they , nowhere, never , infinity.
Her dollhouse burnt in the darkness,
Shed a monsoon, or thirteen.
YOU ARE READING
NOT FLAWLESS ENOUGH
PoesíaNone of us are actually flawless, How much ever we try to make ourselves believe we are perfect, we are amazing.. we'll still be carrying the scars of our own lives and the glories of someone else's But we still try to be flawless, hiding all the m...
