My Foolish Audacity Pt. 2
A Scorn Identity - #6
Beneath the glow of the waxing moon
I asked myself, should I denounce my reflection too,
Should I walk barefoot onto the somber graveyard?
A Soiree I am yet to experience.
***
A passion I am yet to escape.
What if I am to yield?
Perhaps, bask in the cotton candy too,
Who am I to denounce the pleasure of passing of time?
***
Like my wondering shadow,
Who stalks the nocturnal creatures
how can I protect myself against
the woes, and there midnight splendors?
***
Evidentially, my purpose is to
be glutinous of non-digestible things.
What purpose will I give myself?
A foresight which is unbeknownst to me.
About the Creator
House September
We’ll play with each other’s broken hearts. Let us exchange our pieces like trading cards.
I’m too bored to notice, and you are too high to notice the air beneath your feet.
I have poems to share.
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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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