The lady in black
At the moist rich smell of the rotting leaves
She sits alone beyond the sea shore
She has neither friends nor acquaintances to share her frozen delights
As she trembles at the sound of noisy humans
Her voice is like fire in ash
And her lips are like the waning croissant moon
She reads before her eyes lids
As she sings the harmonics of the morning star of a song heard below
With no surprise
Her tears are still frozen apparently
And she can no longer see the air she breathes
As she sits idle like the lady in black
She slithers her way to the pavement
As if she were a snack under grass
Scylla and Charybdis are fates that are beyond her eccentric nature
She whistles prelude melodies that fill spacious time holes
Speaking yet her echo still
Whilst her knowledge of art is held between strong gales
Of swollen clouds raining spontaneous wild terrors
The lady in black
Drinks the sweat of her intellect
And loves herself more than madly
Yet not knowing the sickness in her mind
As she falls disillusioned to the illusions of a temporary high
Until everything changes and it’s all GOD until she becomes suicidal
Just because her thoughts, her mind, her will
Have all become misaligned as she weakens the grim pool
Swallowing boldly to make summer
ŞİMDİ OKUDUĞUN
A shadow of silhouettes
ŞiirAs humans we paint a fabricated picture of who we are and what we stand for. We are caught in pits of hells as we try to impress the status quo of a today society's...
