Just like her solivagant mind wanders and the soft vernalagnia colors her cheeks, rosy - poetry swells from her inside. What her camera captures, spins words of hope and despair in her.
Where the heart bleeds on to the paper, there springs poetry...
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That day the skies were on fire, So was my brain The thoughts burning me inside out. And the fire spread to my heart, Burning bright with a hope That I could douse the fire in me, But do I really want to douse the fire, That dragged me through dark nights? The fire burning in me is the passion, It spreads like wildfire, Across every nerve in my body, Tensing them up for something better. I'm on fire, The burning pain is terrible and yet, Do I want to put out the fire, Be docile and let my glow fade? The glow of fire Needs the pain of burning And the fiery me is ready to burn out, But glow till the end.
