I'm the yellow, autumn leaves falling jagged
in a swift, soft wind
dying, although beautiful, I line the streets,
sweaped and condensed because no matter
how beautiful, you still disrupt them
I challenge their green wonderland, falling slowly,
in a soft wind, I disrupt their manicured displays,
falling jagged and yellow
I'm the soft sheets in a sun room,
the light warm and bright, cascading upon me
The twinkles of dust particles floating around me,
I seem cozy, although exhausted and lonely
because light drains the room only once an afternoon,
5pm, illuminating my sheets slowly and precise
I know do know what it's like
to feel sad all the time,
A feeling that resembles a chest ache
that lingers after heartburn,
When you can't catch your breath,
or like wilting flowers after Broadway curtains close
I wonder if Picasso felt the same as I
When he picked up a paintbrush,
did his hands tremble and his heart race, like
I feel when I cry?
I'm the cardinal that you wish on
but does not answer prayers,
a disappointing hope, disintegrating with the seasons
I am yellow leaves,
soft and swift,
falling slowly in the wind to an Earth so
incredibly dead, but still beautiful,
yes, still beautiful, I disrupt them
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 1:17 PM UTC
I'm the yellow, autumn leaves falling jagged
in a swift, soft wind
dying, although beautiful, I line the streets,
sweaped and condensed because no matter
how beautiful, you still disrupt them
I challenge their green wonderland, falling slowly,
in a soft wind, I disrupt their manicured displays,
falling jagged and yellow
I'm the soft sheets in a sun room,
the light warm and bright, cascading upon me
The twinkles of dust particles floating around me,
I seem cozy, although exhausted and lonely
because light drains the room only once an afternoon,
5pm, illuminating my sheets slowly and precise
I know do know what it's like
to feel sad all the time,
A feeling that resembles a chest ache
that lingers after heartburn,
When you can't catch your breath,
or like wilting flowers after Broadway curtains close
I wonder if Picasso felt the same as I
When he picked up a paintbrush,
did his hands tremble and his heart race, like
I feel when I cry?
I'm the cardinal that you wish on
but does not answer prayers,
a disappointing hope, disintegrating with the seasons
I am yellow leaves,
soft and swift,
falling slowly in the wind to an Earth so
incredibly dead, but still beautiful,
yes, still beautiful, I disrupt them
