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why do i feel caged
                                   —by the same fences, that was
               meant to make me safe.
comfort comes with a cost
snowflakes burn on the cheeks
filtering the clad of trees
with grey nostalgia underneath,

Mother said, "let's make
a scarf with those wings"
the commodity out of necessity

for the weather only permits
threads of white, to rest
as supine angel ghosts

remain like chalk pictures
of suns and dreams yet to be
on the street which colors fade

for she walks, with
a spool of feathers on her neck
wondering why,

she couldn't fly like everybody else.
winter doesn't come in our part of the world, only rain or ashes cloud our skies.
Anne Scintilla Oct 2018
Our efforts remain,
In landfills – incinerate,
Try reaching the sun.
this is for the half-baked work and sad attempts, we continue to give. i don't know how we can save humanity from the lament of our planet.

a.s.
  Oct 2018 Anne Scintilla
ali
he's a slow-motion
car crash.
he's hurtling
straight into this brick wall,
so calm,
typically these things happen
in an instant,
unpredictable,
but we can all see
where this is headed.
blurry faces
and unknown places,
stop and stare
at the collision
in motion,
predictable
and alluring.
metaphor for several things... i wonder what and who we each think of
  Oct 2018 Anne Scintilla
Dave Legalisa
you
are not
an empty
canvas, honey.
you
already are
an art
that only
a beautiful heart
can appreciate.
Anne Scintilla Oct 2018
suddenly all of the pens i own
are either gone,
empty,
broken,
or left alone
no amount of penniless pettiness
came from my mouth,
no mutters,
sobs,
nor silence left
to give,
forgive the narratives,
which lingers
inching
the tip
of thy fingers,
that holds restless
itching
to scab and release
what remains
in scars
the pus which ferments
on hatred and
the scent
burning cocoa beans and smoke
that knocks on my eyes
a blurry vision
despite
rose-tainted glasses,
the taste
of bitterness
in farewell.
here i lie, between the frustrations of every transition in life.

a.s.
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