Getting up in the morning,
Is still a heartache chore,
Why, I don't know,
The ease will always be,
There.
Paining like a ghost,
Aware of only a mimic,
In space and time.
Gradually the moment will,
Pass as the addiction does,
What if it wants to,
Sometimes we manage,
The little things in big,
Doses managing in different,
Plumage from far away,
A plenty.
Time to bury the midnight oil,
As others' sleep,
Wasting a breakage in,
Madness,
Saw a raccoon,
It scared me to witness it,
Very cool it was though,
Huge and brown and white,
Covered in battle scars.
About the Creator
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The Road to Nowhere
Trigger warnings: Violence, Death. "May the Sun burn your tongue out, woman," Fredrick's father screamed the curse into his mother's ear as their elegant little carriage rumbled along, its polished wood and gilded trim glinting in the torchlight. They had just left the small village of Saffron and were on an unnamed road to the capital for the Royal wedding. Fredrick leaned back in his plush velvet seat to escape into the passing landscape, but across from him sat the servant boy, a scrappy lad named Jack. Jack's eyes held a mixture of awe and fear, the kind that only a commoner could feel in the presence of nobility. Jack looked up and caught Fredrick's gaze, offering him a sad little smile before reaching into his pocket and retrieving a little caramel treat. This candy was no doubt stolen from the kitchen treat cupboard; if he was caught with it, he would be locked in the box as punishment.
By Frank English7 days ago in Fiction
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