everybody dared to leave me, even you
you helped me once, then spit me out to
the crowd –
it was more important, that flock of crows
surrounded you like close friends
even though you already had thousands of them
and couldn’t be mine anyway, anywhere
there is always a cold breeze underneath
adding a solid frost to it
that you used to serve me, unfolding
behind the words melted with heat
is that really so?
you’re fading, your colours are bleak
whatever you say now will be unheard of
even if you scream
like everyone here
but you won’t
your lips stay golden
as silence
mine too, unbalanced
---
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About the Creator
Mescaline Brisset
if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
so you want to be a writer? – Charles Bukowski
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Original narrative & well developed characters
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