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Poem by Arsal

By Arsal AsalPublished 2 years ago 1 min read

She reach for the clouds

Her hair in her mouth

A flare hits her face

She becomes a ghost in purple space

Green turns to blue

A Glaze in her gaze

Her eyes wide shut she feels the gloom

As the smoke starts to rise her silent waltz bloom

The birth of the futile virtue

Deems the soul cold and dark

A deep royal flood settles in with the dusk

The jarred struggle to grasp but she is crystal

Yet she tumbles with the foreign clear whistle

And there in the blue for the first time in her life

She feels with her eyes and sees with her heart

A requiem for the wasted hailing the gullible

The wicked persuade her to be the chosen victor

Though the sick will always struggle to part the utter

And that’s how she knows those who hate will end up being in the gutter

Now that the gray smoke will smother

The sun will step up and hug her like her mother

And every step she takes will now color

Little by little, releasing peace on earth forever


About the Creator

Arsal Asal

Emerging screenwriter and director, dog lover, immigrant in the US. Loves creative writing, terrified of birds.

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