A dragonfly with wings of wind
An innocent knowing many sins
A death-drunk addict for the pulse of fame.
a serious child who can't find her name.
A broken will with a tiny bloom,
like a dark house with one lit room.
A cornered cat still attempting grace,
glimpsing beauty in a worn face
A rebel whose eyes are torn with tears
wandering back through moldy years.
a lover of night but to the light will fall
And open-eyed dream of unshadowed walls.
Ah, bewildered as it may be
Are these things you know of me?
YOU ARE READING
Crafting Lightbeams
PoetryA fresh bundle of thoughts, wrapped by a star gazer. Hope you like them all.
