The sun supposed to provide warmth, now gnaws at my perishable skin, digging its scorching daggers into my pale flesh and eating away what little of innocence is left in it.
While the moon pelts my burned, tattered skin with invigorating streaks of white moonlight. The red lava like burns on my pale skin vanishing as the stardust falls upon them, building itself back for the scorching daggers of tomorrow.
Stardust always healed me and daggers always ripped me apart. It's the law of nature. I was the soul of the night, the soul enlightened by every little speck of stardust the night sky had to offer while the world I lived in was the world of scorching daggers, ready to nibble and rip apart my skin.
2) Questions surge and submerge my brain, crashing like wave upon wave of ruthless water. Splashes of doubt and cusses spewed at the wicked wicked world.
YOU ARE READING
Rhyming Resurrections - a teenager's thoughts
PoetryJust random blurbs of writing on love, mental health and more <3 // Don't copy my work. Its my own and not copied.
