She sets the ink free,
let the pen crawls,
and the words flow like a sea.
Again,
she's lost in her nirvana.
#175 in Poetry [28/2/18]
#8 in Overthinking
#3 in Musings
#18 in thinking (out of 1K+)
#95 in words (out of 1K+)
#373 in poems (out of...
“For soft people turn dangerous When their beloved ones are those behind the trigger.”
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Once upon a magnificent century, A wildflower bloomed.
With Skin different than her sisters, Alluring all the eyes with her mesmerising charm, Dreams surfing the clouds, she wore positivity like a crown Her life to watchers was an astounding tale.
Competing with her, Spite filled her sisters' hearts and their glory wilted from Jealousy, Her path they bent, polished her beauty grey.
Despite their best attempts, She wasn't dead yet.
Her Liveliness from chaos aroused, Breathing in determination, A tune of strength she strung, Her goals, she achieved Dangerous, she've become.
Gunpowder glittered her stems instead of delicate skin, She became her own hero
And from the dirt they buried her in she bloomed with grace.
