For forty minutes a day
Next to me stood a girl
Her hands dirty and caked
From molding and mending
She made shapes from her mind
Reused the same dry clay.
Rewetting it.
Its a dragon. She'd say.
As we saw but a snake.
Its perfect she'd decide.
Only for it to be ruined
By a mindless someone
Forty moments a day
But i think she stays immersed longer.
Trying to mold perfection
And fix the broken
YOU ARE READING
Euphoria & Woe
PoetrySometimes our beasts can't be caged up inside. Sometimes I let my demons dance free among the words that I give to you, my love. Forever for you. (I stole the pictures, that stole my heart.)
