she will live, high in the clouds
where Heaven meets the stratosphere
bruises and scrapes sprinkled against her body
like wicked tattoos; made against her own will.
Her tongue, pressed lightly against her teeth,
breathing with the tempo of her favorite song.
closed eyes, and a sway.
tapping her feet
She hears the whimsical tone,
freedom from the world,
her malachite is captivated,
hypnotized; she stares at her skin,
a slogan of waged wars, within her own mind.
she will find tomorrow,
buried in the words of someone's yesterday.
Living under the clouds;
somewhere under a vague colored prism of hope.
She tastes tears; salt-laced, and melancholy.
She will wait for the Sun to be freed, from the grasp of midnight's wicked palms.
Sadness isn't Glamourous, when your mascara and tears mix, and produce cracks in your skin.
She will keep searching for tomorrow.
She will keep trying.
She will win.
The Rain will wash the scattered shreds of lost hope, away;
and the morning will remind her just how far she's come.
YOU ARE READING
"A Journey Through The Eyes of A Poet"
PoetryThis book encapsulates the ramblings that stumble through my mind in the darkest hours of the night. This book also gives you perspective on; love, heartbreak, anger, sadness, anxiety, death, and more.
