Spitting fire ,seering the edges of my soul.
I stand alone surrounded by ashes .
Floating specks of flames settle on my pale arm but like always they don't burn .
All I see .. is grey, all I feel... is grey, all I am ..is grey.
The rustling leaves whisper curses in the air,
As the wind softly caresses ruffles my raven curls .
Are you close to be close or your exisistence is to be a path of thorns in my life ?
Will you save me with gleaming armour or will you be the one with a swinging whip striking the air ...
Is your bursts of kindness worth the days of torture?
.........
Well are they?
YOU ARE READING
Depth
RandomMe rambling about the little things in life,while dealing with anxiety and other ups and downs.
