=~°~=
Black hands, oh, those nasty black hands,
Escape is impossible in his grasp -- so cold, so bland,
His thick fingers covering my pleading screams,
Jet black tears come down my face in streams,
They don't understand for only I could see him,
A second here, then there, making my world dim,
An escape I had planned so carefully and thoroughly,
Finally I can breathe, walk calmly towards the sea,
I want to taste the fresh summer wisps of air,
To hear the birds sing in choirs for him who's fair,
Sitting peacefully at the precipice of a magestic cliff,
Where seagulls lurk and whatelse beneath,
To see the sea that invites me so warmly,
Holding the sun at its end, glowing blissfully,
To feel the rough, dank ground below my feet,
To feel the nature as I surrender in defeat,
Inexplicably, it seems, that he can catch up with the flow,
Nasty black hands, they hide behind my shadow,
The black fingers that crawl on my face to cover me,
Everything comes back seemingly there and part of reality,
=~°~=
Hiya, lavies~
I was inspired to write this by my classmate's drawing to write this. In her doodling book, I saw a black hand at the corner of the page--it was a huge hand. It was the only one in the page. So I thought, "Hey. That's a good idea for a poem. I should ask her what it's about so I could start writing ahead."
So then that was how "Black Hands" was made. Tada! 🎇🎆
Hope you enjoyed!
Lav y'all~ 💘💕
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Poem Addiction
Poetry"A poet's greatest strength is his words; his greatest weakness is his emotions; his greatest addiction is his paper that is the world he lives in." -Eskay Kitz-
