Placed where nothing can touch.
A glass room filled with dirt.
Red stains pure eyes of white innocence.
My heart is so pale
it is filled with a soft light
I will save it selfishly for my dreams
because I treat it as a gift, my blessing
A miracle before I awake
I can look back kindly,
I can look in reminiscence
I look back because I fear forward might disappoint
I long with every second to return, every second to be revealed
every tired and exhausted moment I don't fade into its depths
They want to be heard, their whispers cry.
About the Creator
Kayla McIntosh
This is just my personal journal. I needed somewhere to write my thoughts, and I thought here was pretty good.
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