Reflections once blossomed
but ideals were cadavers
entombed
in thorns of serrated ethics
now void less.
But streams had dried up
leaving echoes
of rouge images
showing like imperfections emaciated.
Even though a collection once
blossoming now vacant.
Nothing fades but leaves
seeds of contemplation, to grow again.
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 4:43 PM UTC
Reflections once blossomed
but ideals were cadavers
entombed
in thorns of serrated ethics
now void less.
But streams had dried up
leaving echoes
of rouge images
showing like imperfections emaciated.
Even though a collection once
blossoming now vacant.
Nothing fades but leaves
seeds of contemplation, to grow again.
