The stars dipped into the snowy hills,
Twinkling and glimmering in a blue world,
Gathering in the drifts at the base of old trees
Wisened half by weather, half by soil.
Moved by the rivers trailing through the dirt.
.
Skeletons sleep nestled in their roots.
Great fissures crack the earth open in a sneer.
The poets tumble in and die,
The romantics after,
And the cynics last of all.
.
The soil shifts and chasms belch until bones
Are the only things that remain.
Souvenirs from the terror of a sleep
No one has managed to wake from.
Night has picked up its crown.
.
Silver Serpent Books
.
About the Creator
Silver Daux
Writer of the dark! Think of it like flipping rocks, the weird little stories underneath are my jam and jelly. Jam and butter? Just jam. Absolutely no use of AI in any of my works :)
Ah, also:
Tiktok/Insta: harbingerofsnake
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