Porphyria
Porphyria lies with blankets of bruises
Pale complexion, broken countenance
Complimented with the tones of emerald and indigo
Whispers to the braided branches of trees
Which she could only gaze upon
Paralyzed, shocked, against her will
Pleads for the trees' assistance
"Unravel your boughs,
to let the light show,
and take me to where the dead ones go."
Empathy purged
Interconnection
Felt the cries and shakes of poor Porphyria
No one was around to love her while she dies
She was the only one to hear any fern to fall in the forest
Around the age of Aquarius
Fire had finally arose
To disperse desolation
And give into Porphyria's wishes
Distraction
Cyclones of golden waves
Striking with elegance
As they shimmer down her back
Her gentle smile,
Blurs every thought out of my head
A distraction,
You distracted me from the outside problems
