"Something Poetic it Seems" By Caress Genelle
In the mind that once was clean
now consists of confused impurities
mangled and pale;the pink from her flesh is dead and walking
Thoughts are circles. Minds sink. The color that makes you blind and the eyes that steal your mind;there is something like a shattered sheet of glass or a broken ocean of dreams like the tears shed when no one is listening.
how do we beg for what we think is our lives; In a sense, all Romantics die. They'll look and see no color in the eyes of others and beg the color to redeem. But,nothing seems poetic and what is real is actually a dream.
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