You're singing at the top of your lungs to your favorite song as I pound my angry fist into your broken skull with my bloodied knuckles, but you keep on screaming your heart out as if time and emotion don't exist.
Your skull is fracturing underneath the melted skin; and your eyes seemed so hollow when I peered inside, like an empty well or a dry Savannah, like an abandoned shell of an ancient pearl, or a deserted candy store with a CLOSED sign.
Shall we dance to a beat of my own or will you keep on shouting the lyrics to a song sung by your own ignorant mind?
My joyous heart dances on the green fields while the blades sway with the breeze. An orchestra of our own! Sung by my swaying body and the fluffy clouds above and the yellow leaves that crunch beneath my leather boots.
When had the seasons changed? The yellow leaves blend into white moss, and the pink petals dissolve into intricate branches. And as we peel our skin away to welcome a new world, why does your heart stay the same?
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Author:
xeina (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 27th, 2020 03:45
- Comment from author about the poem: On dealing with passive hearts. Here's a little angry poem that I wrote a while back.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
Offline)
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