the cold wind through my nostrils
awakening my rotten soul fresh
like a tulip on a blithe sunrise.
don’t know if its a suffering tear or a raindrop on my pale cheeks.
clouds in the sky,sailing away like a ship in a sea, full with chaos.
tigers eye trees dying,reviving as emeralds.
O’ how I wish i could bury myself deep and become the moist ground by my tears,attach to roots of an ancient oak.
the sky blushing during dusk
from the words gale spoke.
no blanket is fulfilling the coldness in my empty soul.
no matter how many times I stretch it,beat it,
never feel the ray of warmth in me.
weak,burning fingers shivering,
purging out ashes.
i feel my numb heart
shattering slowly into pieces.
the soul in me suffers with an incurable disease.
O’ how I wish i could bury myself deep and become the moist ground by my tears,attach to roots of an ancient oak.
unite with lonely trees.
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Author:
nina (
Offline) - Published: September 28th, 2021 02:50
- Comment from author about the poem: (this is my first ever poem i have ever written before )
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 32
- Users favorite of this poem: rebmasters
Offline)
Comments1
liked it,i think all creation has souls
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