Smoke

30 3 0
                                    

Smoke.
A signal for help.
A signal of disposal.
It rises from ashes.
But becomes nothing.
Becomes unseen.
I see myself as smoke.
I cry for help
Feel like disposal.
I try to rise from ashes.
Each time I do, I'm unseen
  I disappear.
I am smoke.
I am nothing

Aesthetic WritingsWhere stories live. Discover now