Poetry is my language, and Earth is my playground.
Marionette My weakened legs, from having been strung up by the duplicit puppet master king-- His Majesty was done with me. Strings? Cut,
By Sara Wynn2 years ago in Poets
The shine of headlights meets no end, spinning world fast asleep; moon dance between their love-locked eyes, thick trees and crickets sing.
You're holding onto something instead of letting it go to be there for me. And you act like I'm asking so much from you
The world has grown dim, blurred thoughts quick have slowed, cold blood thick flows thin for precious star dust. Sound is loud quiet,
My last song was bled from me when I gave my soul to the wind And I know that I seem far away but the fabric here is thin
"What did you dream about? How did you sleep? I’m sorry if I just blindsighted you. I hope to go blind laying eyes on you.
At first, it wasn’t just a cloud, when it thumped like a sledgehammer; bones cracking, shrieks of agony turned to grunts, reduced to whimpers;
Rain is shaken from the leaves whose blanket warms the rainbow river, the sun's reflection in her mirror, the moonlight illumined sea.
Only darkness, I imagine, but peaceful, however lonely, without feeling, on a tangent, never lethal for ongoing surly sweetness, no direction…
Stardust lingers in the piercing sun, suspended, like a spirit after it has left the body; incandescent fleck, aloof, illuminated,
Without discrimination, taking young and old, a patient shadow hiding, waiting-- "there." Expectant raven, he who receives leaves of gold,
I'm going to see if Heaven is real-- I know you've been wanting to know, and if I am gone for too very long, you'll know it's okay to follow.
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