On days when her drenched soul seeks solace,
'tis the sound of gleeful laughter
echoing through the air,
the crinkling of eyes,
and contented sighs
that made the constant wave of dread ebb away
To a corner of her mind.
Yet when the rogue tide returns to the shore
Is when her heart and mind resort to war
A war where the heart gets torn to pieces
And the mind remains stubborn and reckless.
Ergo when her withered self was thus shown,
with the usual round of days dreary,
and her eyes stiffly bleary,
All she could do was wait for the dawn.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
When A Bud Blooms | Poetry
Poesía[COMPLETED] "As I see visions of me escaping this wretched reality, the hidden path behind me that I travelled a moment ago disappears, and the bridge readies itself to once more daunt. Through moments of such hesitation and doubt, oh pray, let me f...
