No ratings.
I do not describe my poetry. |
FauxNe Butterfly Torture in the vaults of a deadly rhythm. With a breathless exhale, every word escapes her mouth into silence. A fleeting moment of what could be, paralyzing her with uncertainty. Acknowledgement of the situation reveals the lack of innocence. Unacquainted and impatient. This constant pursuit befitted the delight in which she reveled. Gradually her amusement evolved into a poisonous habit of pushing others away. The cyclical rhythm gaining momentum while hiding all the pain. In time it will find another way out as she watches from beyond the veil. |