I write for people
who have not made it
out of the dark yet
I write for girls and boys
and everyone burning between
I write for those with gardens of pain
bursting in their lungs,
for everyone so tenderhearted
they quiver
at the red wilderness
of splendor and absurdity
around us
I write for souls with teeth,
for shadow eyes,
for scapulae fighting to become wings,
for rage and awe condensed to the point of
explosion
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 4:32 PM UTC
I write for people
who have not made it
out of the dark yet
I write for girls and boys
and everyone burning between
I write for those with gardens of pain
bursting in their lungs,
for everyone so tenderhearted
they quiver
at the red wilderness
of splendor and absurdity
around us
I write for souls with teeth,
for shadow eyes,
for scapulae fighting to become wings,
for rage and awe condensed to the point of
explosion
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