Rose-scented rainwater from a smoke-coloured sky,
Skin to skin with the teardrops of life
A fresh breath of air in a sinking sea
This is the resuscitation of me.
A dripping portrait with dew-dropped lashes
Weeping washes away the ashes,
Enclosed with glass and clouds of steam,
Is this the true incarnation of me?
The asphalt washed by river rainfall,
Their lives by hidden waterfalls,
The lights glow gold in that sky of a sea,
And blurs the desperation in me.
Shatter the surface for a grasp, a gasp of life
To drown here and die is to live a new life.
For sweet sensation of clean and free
I hammer the old foundation of me.
Meanwhile, umbrellas defy the rain,
Their sullen bearers deny the pain,
In a mosaic, a mural, that only I see,
This is a representation of me.
The window differs, the view remains,
This time for cleansing all our stains,
Paint present pain into past impression,
And choose creation and not damnation -
yes, this is the resuscitation of me.
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I really liked this one. It's comfortable. (I actually submitted it to a poetry competition, but... I don't know. Hopefully, I'll win. xD)
I think I'll have maybe three (or maybe four?) more of these happy-ish ones before I move on to the completely nice and happy and wonderful unicorns. xD
TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK - also, what you want to see in the future. Thanks!
- The Author (screw this)