high and mighty.
I have gotten
used to this throne
beneath me
the chill
my fingers
leave in their wake
my wishes
a mere heartbeat
away
every clench of my heart
a burning
sting
in my chest
my lips
too heavy
to lift
content
I
blow
the breath
worth a thousand
million pounds
my spirit
honing
my skills--
teach me!
a silent plead
fog the air
ha
it says
not so easily
I sigh
I will stay
and I will
perish
till the
moon
takes
me
with
her
.
.
.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
©VioletEden
23rdMay2017
YOU ARE READING
Vermillion
PoetryI have been surviving the past few years, counting on my hands, the days taking me, to the impending end. I will not. I will not sacrifice my hands anymore for something so sacrilegious. I color my hands with Vermillion, rub the pages of my noteboo...
