No matter how softly they walk,
treads will wear the terrain
by the paths of least resistance.
In the tender tracks
I wanted briars to grow,
To draw out crimson pain.
Flowers bloomed instead.
Rough hands crushed green necks,
Yet you couldn't hear their fragrant cries, over the pride of adornment.
I know their pale petals fell
On your shoulders, like tears.
Spring torrents came,
soft resolve washed away,
Sharp edges of hardened
granite gleam.
Walk softly over barren rock.
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 3:34 PM UTC
No matter how softly they walk,
treads will wear the terrain
by the paths of least resistance.
In the tender tracks
I wanted briars to grow,
To draw out crimson pain.
Flowers bloomed instead.
Rough hands crushed green necks,
Yet you couldn't hear their fragrant cries, over the pride of adornment.
I know their pale petals fell
On your shoulders, like tears.
Spring torrents came,
soft resolve washed away,
Sharp edges of hardened
granite gleam.
Walk softly over barren rock.
