What is the time of our lives?
Where are the unequivocal moments of peace?
How do we define her?
How do we define her trees?...
Her eyes glisten with pain
Her hands ache from your stones,
yet she still holds you all.
Their grass is as dull as your soul.
Their barren branches reaching towards the ground as if to say I will heal with the life of the earth.
The earth accepts,
why can't you?...
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Author:
Bloody Pen (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 23rd, 2024 06:12
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Offline)
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