I know you sought
for your desires,
I came in short
for my demise.
The towers are lingering
through the faceless shadows of your whim.
I felt as if you’re Thumbelina,
All sweet and big from within.
The tulips fade
as the winter crave
to last for cold a summer winter gaze.
I hear that those,
Chilly winter breeze made you crumble
Beneath that layered wool of lamb.
I followed you
because I felt that even once,
I need to keep myself afar,
from the critics and judgmental eyes.
I know, I must not dwell
In things that I might not feel,
for the legends of those tales
are only but from a quill.
I hate the sound of the howling wind,
as it reminds me of that winter screams.
The ceiling of Cottony clouds, that carry a monotonous crowd.
I escaped reality because I found
that most are just living cows,
bred ‘till fatten but butchered after.
Is this the life I followed?
Or is this just one of many ?
I don’t know ‘coz I am not wary of the things that might come in handy.
I guess that legends
of one’s time
And glitters of one flake will surely be
preserved in a cold winter summer night.
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 7:21 PM UTC
I know you sought
for your desires,
I came in short
for my demise.
The towers are lingering
through the faceless shadows of your whim.
I felt as if you’re Thumbelina,
All sweet and big from within.
The tulips fade
as the winter crave
to last for cold a summer winter gaze.
I hear that those,
Chilly winter breeze made you crumble
Beneath that layered wool of lamb.
I followed you
because I felt that even once,
I need to keep myself afar,
from the critics and judgmental eyes.
I know, I must not dwell
In things that I might not feel,
for the legends of those tales
are only but from a quill.
I hate the sound of the howling wind,
as it reminds me of that winter screams.
The ceiling of Cottony clouds, that carry a monotonous crowd.
I escaped reality because I found
that most are just living cows,
bred ‘till fatten but butchered after.
Is this the life I followed?
Or is this just one of many ?
I don’t know ‘coz I am not wary of the things that might come in handy.
I guess that legends
of one’s time
And glitters of one flake will surely be
preserved in a cold winter summer night.
