Run! Escape, people hid as she revealed,
Macabre! She could hear them breathe.
Nobody tried or waited for her to be healed,
Grisly ghoulish her soul from underneath.
And then left one from the crowd that concealed,
Unarmed but not scared to wreathe,
And as she reached near, on his knees yield,
To attain a soul or receive death.
In his brave eyes seek a love so deep she hid,
And in the tired arms a kind souls seek,
For the soul more deranged that her shield,
She healed herself from macabre to upbeat,
And the ones that ran could only wail as he wield,
The pretty girl, love and joy meet.
YOU ARE READING
Petrichor
PoesíaSoon after the cruelly and devilishly beautiful rain, petrichor fills your nose if you aren't the one who ignores the murderous downpour in your private cabin. The smell of the rejuvenated sand is all what you feel when your feet explores nature's m...
