The sheep hide from the shadow above the hill.
The one that runs with the storm;
They quiver from something you never know is there,
Veiny blood in the eyes of newborn.
I tiptoe on dark clouds,
Dare them to grow soft
Finding a thrill in my own mortality
I become what I'm not.
Feathered wings beseeched by talon,
Our existence is in insanity
A dimensional line we know is fine
Unless we're pulled to its brink.
YOU ARE READING
The Book of Fantastical Confusion
Poetry"The most important thing, darling, is to live a fabulous life. As long as it's fabulous, I don't care how long it is." - Freddie Mercury Art, madness and poetry--whatever more could you need? Highest Rankings: #1 in poetry #1 in midnight thoughts #...
