On a morning of sunsets,
I plea for silence.
The air around me is screaming,
The sorrows of old violence.
The earth spins on a tilt,
And so do I.
A shivering twirl,
My mind, cock-eyed.
In the bleeding form of tomorrow,
Who am I to speak?
I long for yesterdays,
When the pain reached its peak.
In theory, I am a butterfly,
Dramatised change in flight.
In reality, I am a moth,
At one with the night.
Jan 28
Jan 28, 2026 at 3:44 PM UTC
On a morning of sunsets,
I plea for silence.
The air around me is screaming,
The sorrows of old violence.
The earth spins on a tilt,
And so do I.
A shivering twirl,
My mind, cock-eyed.
In the bleeding form of tomorrow,
Who am I to speak?
I long for yesterdays,
When the pain reached its peak.
In theory, I am a butterfly,
Dramatised change in flight.
In reality, I am a moth,
At one with the night.