Enchanted by the darkness
Someone something speaks
Moves gracefully tell jokes
Until it becomes not funny
But real hunting real skin screeching
Are ghosts calling.
People around me, besides me under cloaks under
Mask, smiles that the sun seems so envious of how
Bright they light up a room, in a crowd full with
Dying batteries remote control lights out humans, individuals. Till they walk their hearts, feet carry's sin dirt, Unclean, forgotten guilty bitter-taste past that seems hard to scrub off, bleach wouldn't do any good to these copy of the same shed old skin humans.
-ashes poetry
YOU ARE READING
Clouds poetry
PoetryTo reach the sky is to fly and I hope someone can be Able to reach my poems. © copy rights by ashleyyololo 2022
