I was burning bright;
Too bright.
I was a spark, turning into wild fire.
I touched wood,
Watched it reform into ashes.
I extended my flailing arms,
My fingertips sensed something;
It sparked with embers,
And cried in agony,
Twisting and Turning with the whims of my tips.
My vision filled with bright light.
Engulfing everything along it's wide way,
It extended it's formly arms around me;
And whispered in my ear,
"My Child, You have lived long."
YOU ARE READING
Rosé Cacti
Poetry"See the war inside of her Of the heart and the soul Deadlier than that of the heart and mind. She laughs, She conceals; She cries, She writes; All that the heart wants, she gives And the soul is fed with fake promises. She flourished her wilting ro...
