While walking down a mountain path,
And coming to a stream,
I feel a sudden rush of wrath
Yet it tastes so serene.
I have been bent and broken
from these painful memories
So keep this as a token
of my sweet scent of apathy.
I splash our reflection
out of that stream
I'm sick of this affliction.
Stop infesting my dreams.
by Beth Ceragioli
No comments:
Post a Comment