And with this, gentle night, who's dark fires continue to consume the souls and dreams of men who make wishes on stars instead of statistics, condemn me to your deepest void. Store me with the black cats and wondering foot steps along the boulevard that contribute to the rhythm of the nightingale's song. Let me be the percussion of a homeless man's breath, beating against the street lamps' dim light, like hazy, gray clouds. Make me the crunching music of grass and bones under ancient ground and help me to dance with the shadows of the lost and looking. I will chase the sidewalk until dawn and find no comfort in the gaudy sun's glow. How big is this concrete desert? I will become the stars and shine endlessly over the populous, hoping to grant better fortune than my kin before.
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Here's some poetry for you
-m
YOU ARE READING
Tales of a Neverland Lost Girl
General FictionThese are a collection of short stories, poems, monologues and whatever else I like that have been trapped in my head for a while. Xoxo
