She used to have fire in her eyes,
Passion in her heart
Creativity in her mind,
Love for her art.
She used to have felicity in her bones,
Colour in her soul
Magic in her fingers,
That depression stole.
And now all she has are tears in her eyes,
All passion in her has crumbled and died.
The creativity that once filled lands and oceans,
Has now faded and dried.
Now her soul is pitch black like the night,
Her bones are broken and cracked
In her fingers all she holds is a blood-coated blade,
The dark fiction she wrote became fact.
She used to dream about faraway lands,
That weren't as tranquil as her head
She used to wear her heart on her sleeve,
But now that girl is dead.
~Via
YOU ARE READING
Paroxysm |✓
PoetryYou ask people about love, They tell you about heartbreak. You ask people about smiles, But when aren't they fake? You ask people about sorrow, And their words could fill oceans. So if you want to hear mine, Here's my whirlwind of emotions. • •...
