the world was in your hands
you studied it,
turning it over
and over
in your gentle fingers
your eyes surveying the hills and valleys
studying,
thinking,
contemplating.
your skin tingled
with concentration
and your heart fell to your feet
when you watched the inhabitants
begin to destroy themselves
over imaginary strings.
tearing each other apart
over things that didn't actually exist
and there was nothing you could do
but watch
and cry
as it crumbled into dust
and slipped through your
gentle
fingers
YOU ARE READING
maybe i'm dreaming (COMPLETED)
Poetrya sky full of poems, none of which connect (stars without constellations) this is a compilation of almost every aspect of my life in poems, as well as some fictional elements too i hope you enjoy my cemetery of secrets -lowercase is intended for sty...
