The boy with blue hair
Frozen wisps-
An ocean.
Covering the surface;
To hide the earth
And it's mantle.
Lava at the core
In a facade of ice.
Nonchalant, simple
movements
in a cool manner.
Nimble fingers
And a burning mind.
Ice scales on his arms.
Shattered and broken
Identical to his being.
YOU ARE READING
The brain is a machine
PoetryThe brain is a machine when fed creativity Let it paint us a picture
