the purest form of innocence,
longing for nothing more than to
bloom and bask in the warm
embrace of her
golden lover.
oh deadly deceived,
through seconds, her existence is torn
away from that of her love.
sliced in half by the sheer force of an ignorant hand.
all she can do now is cry out for all she knows -
the golden rays.
we are nothing but foul,
in everything we do and
in everyone we see -
we fail to notice the beauty
in existence
...
we mindlessly destroy.
YOU ARE READING
enigmatic
Poetryen·ig·mat·ic /ˌenəɡˈmadik/ adjective difficult to interpret or understand; mysterious. Just a collection of my shitty writing I like to call poetry. How unfortunate. (I am also rather edgy and depressed here so tw for some people but I promise I'm a...
