the water is dark, glittering with stars:
souls trapped, souls promised, exchanged for words
empty prayers, never fulfilled
the stones whisper, silver tongued lies of perfection;
a world crafted by your imagination,
hoping to blind you to the truth
the grass is alive, creeping around your ankles:
a silent snare, as if, in time, it will entice you
so you'll sell yourself to the dark gods below
it does not want your coins, your petty change
for there is only one paying currency for wishes
and it's the one thing you should never give
YOU ARE READING
a garden of monsters || poetry collection
Poetryall that i create, all that i touch, is poisoned |completed 1/6/19|
