I have learned that people change like seasons.
And we all become different persons;
Our minds are like the color of the leaves,
which transform on the crooked arms of trees.
Green becomes scarlet before we realize
Like the way I no longer recognize
My reflection in the truthful mirror.
The leaves shall fall off the tree next, I fear.
Smiles no longer reach our wandering eyes,
and our mouths only tell secrets and lies.
The dead leaves descend, and the cold beckons.
We are swallowed by our hidden demons.
YOU ARE READING
The Chaos
PoetryWelcome to the chaos of my mind. A collection of original poems by me. "A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language." -W.H. Auden "That was her gift, she filled you with words you didn't k...
