Creative sparks, energy that flow through.
A spontaneous surge pulses as it possesses.
Begging to be interpreted, needing to be set free.
At times unspecific yet unwilling to wait.
It leaves impatiently, it's faded imprint left behind.
Incapable to sustain, it hauntingly whispers of its possibility.
YOU ARE READING
See Less, Feel More
PoetryRandom poems, nothing special. It's more of a hobby when I'm bored or have something on my mind. It's just a bunch of stuff I originally put up on mirakee. There's more on there than here because I get lazy to put it here. You can find me @ see_less...
