and that was the best part
untouched by the harshness of winter and the fury of the summer afternoons
hoping for a millionth time
who had his dreams stung by bumblebees
when the humans have healed humanity but until then, let me stellify and doze off amidst the confounded stars.
I had no scars in me. (A poem inspired by the life of Frodo Baggins: the protagonist of Lord of the Rings trilogy by JRR Tolkien)
while buying lonely cookies from the vanilla scented bakery|| for @notexactlyhuman's contest. prompt: monachopsis
"We are writers, my love. We don't cry. We bleed on paper."~a.y.
you choose to tread upon the thorny lane
but in the dying fiery hues of sunset, will they remember me?
I was listening to 'Blood Rose' by Birthday and this appeared.
they call it 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓉𝓎, I call it 𝒶𝓉𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓍𝒾𝒶.
they were all made up of a soul which can be traumatized and a spirit that can be fragmented.
||a four liner ode to harsh words||
What if I tell you, that inside, we all bear a distinct universe? (First attempt at free verse poetry, open to any constructive criticism :))
::But wouldn't that be great, to be adrift; and to get lost where they can't see...:: (Tried the AXXA rhyming scheme lol, open to any constructive criticism :))
"Crying does not indicate that you are weak. Since birth, it has always been a sign that you are alive." ~ Charlotte Bronte.
whose flowers bloomed even in the harshest of winters