I'm picking strawberries and over-watering flowers. "What" you say "are you doing up at this hour?" I smile and frown at the same time and nearly cry as well. You stare coldly at me and I feel I'm going to hell.
I'm on my feet and loitering in the corridors. It's 3am, I'm still wide awake. I'm mopping up the floors. The iron smell of red substance sickens me. Yet it stimulates and excites my curiosity. I tiptoe to the window, looking down at wolves. They're feasting on a little girl, while her ride jolts away on its hooves. Unfortunate. Curious. Cannibal. Blood. Hmmm.
YOU ARE READING
Turquoise Emotions
PoetryI am trying to cope with my chaotic, hectic self. These are my late-night thoughts.
