You see the world so closely
But do you see how it's changing?
Believing in something so distant.
Every night consumed by the same darkness.
As flesh turns to dust,
Memories fade until little is left.
The shape is there
The details are missing.
A change you won't notice
Until it's sunk its teeth in deep.
Only you have the ability to decide:
Is it good?
Is it right?
About the Creator
The Omnichromiter
I write stories like spells—soft at the edges, sharp underneath. My poems are curses in lace, lullabies that bite back. I don’t believe in happily ever after. I believe in survival, transformation; in burning and blooming at the same time.
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