lx. she has tired of them all

37 24 11
                                    



There her feet have come to stand,
as she delves into the chapter of gold,
letting the wind caress the strands,
of the tendrils that her hair foretold;
now watch as she glimpses the beyond,
with that faraway look haunting her eyes;
watch as her tears morph into a pond,
under the wrath of her blistered cries;
look at her mellifluous hair as it dances,
look at her beautiful feet as it prances;
watch as she extends a hand to the horizon,
wherein there is no heaven of an ocean,
watch as the waves clash against her thoughts,
watch as she finds that there is no aughts;
now look at the vines that bring her demise,
look at the vortex that spin her web of lies;
she is now victim to her own temptation,
now only a figment of this imagination.

Poesy of EloquenceWhere stories live. Discover now