Why does this caged beast sing While the world burns around it Lulled by deaf-tone melodies Placate with the newest of things And the prettiest
Tag: fiction
Flowering Ink
I sat at the edge of something, contemplating anything. Like so many times before, I try to look up, but could only stare down into
The Sand
And sometimes the blue turns to grayAs lost puppies push their nose into the sandDigging along the shoreFor something, anythingWasting away, starving, thirstyHow long can
Someday Maybe
I made a promise To an old friend That I’d be back This way someday But a restlessness Sleeps down Inside me Burning questions In
Too Late
It’s too late For the light to change These adornments Permanent Fixed to the existential Crisis of the moment We find it better To run
Colder Than Before
If I could have seen Known this, years before When I had nothing No color, only sound Echoing throughout, between Innocence in the past tense
