~ If Brokeness is a form of art,
This must be my masterpiece. ~
They bow their heads,
As if I, the Queen,
And there perhaps a time
When I'd be humbled and shy.
Now festers melancholy,
Within this broken heart.
A cruel mistress, fate be,
Mislaid me handcuffed, forlorn,
Intangible to all but air.
And I, accompanied by their crystal eyes,
Gaze with sombre etched upon marble faces,
At that lone, cold slab, shaped from stone
That be laced with the wicked misfortune
To carry my name for evermore.
AN:- Okay, so here's a random poem for no good reason. This will rarely be updated as I suck balls at writing poems. And even the successful ones have a story.
This one, contrary to its tone, has a horrifying backstory that still makes me and my friends break out in laughter.
Moon Signing Off.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryA few poems that somehow ended up on the sheet I was staring at. Don't even ask me why I published these. Especially since these moments come annually or something.
