i am so sick of green.
the trees blot out the sun
and shroud my world
with shadow.
sickly, monotonous green.
it's suffocating,
the shade even
resembles infection.
but even then,
the pale emerald
of her eyes
always felt like home.
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YOU ARE READING
•metamorphism of me• [finished]
Poetryjust a collection of shitty writings from ya girl
green
i am so sick of green.
the trees blot out the sun
and shroud my world
with shadow.
sickly, monotonous green.
it's suffocating,
the shade even
resembles infection.
but even then,
the pale emerald
of her eyes
always felt like home.