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A young breeze winds through
The barren branches
Whistling, singing
Of a coming storm.
Endlessly it descends
Soft, like feathers
The first snowflakes
My perpetual thoughts.
Should it be this hard
To hide blood-stained hands
With a pair of mittens
And blend into the snow?
My friends, they say
I'm trying to change
That I made mistakes
And don't be ashamed.
But they're stuck
In a full colour palette
Even Ruk won't admit
That I'm beyond help.
How far down
Am I willing to go
Or is there a difference
Between later and now?
It's clear as ice
And the bleak winter sky
My silhouette
Is but of stubborn red.
YOU ARE READING
THOUGHTLESS │✔️
PoetryThe words The petals On a flower that Thrives by appearance Is only Will merely Be a flimsy Taste of what's inside Why price By the eyes The symmetry Of flawed beauty As though As most Are weighed by Thoughtless ideals For those Four arrows A sma...
