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she was a
black rose in a
field of daisies;
always crouching
in her corner
while the world
was blooming
and symphonies
were playing.
she observed
solemnly as the
sky wept; feeling
oddly at peace.
her lonely corner
soon granted her
the solitude
she would so
desperately
seek.
it was her safe
haven in a way,
an exclusive place;
soothing like the
essence of petrichor
on those rainy
spring days.
but nothing
revolved around
the adolescent
and her nest; this
became apparent
as time gradually
progressed.
everything
was changing,
yet the world
stayed the same;
with thoughts
deep in sonder,
in the corner she
remained.
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YOU ARE READING
BEFORE THE STORM
Poetry𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝖽𝗌? | 𝗉𝗅𝗎𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗉𝗁𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺𝖼 © 2019 |
