Favored child, run from here.
Her writhing twitches towards your reach.
The sun is soon descending, Her waters ache for a taste.
Favored child don't turn back
as wax crusts around your shoulders,
You'll find you're inescapably free.
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Author:
Aislinn Wilson (
Offline) - Published: January 11th, 2019 13:13
- Comment from author about the poem: Written in the psyche ward.
- Category: Fable
- Views: 26
Offline)
Comments3
Interestingly written and formatted. But a fine write none the less. There is no such thing as flying too close to the sun for if we don't make it we still will live among the stars.
Interesting thought. I guess that itself is an inescapable freedom. Thanks for your thoughts.
the last two lines are to die for.. and of course, he did
Well said. That means a lot.
my pleasure..
Freedom can be found in so many ways.
Both fortunately and unfortunately
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