You were bright-eyed like a flouriest
angel lighting up the streets. But they can be dimming. Night has away of draining beauty into void less shadows. I once saw stars in your eyes, now all I see is the space in-between. Flowers blossoming, spring breezes were your words to me. I found you clipped, dead eclipses vacant within you. It doesn't matter how bright you shine, the city may outshine you. And what was always able to rise, set with the demise of light. They found you extinguished, in a shallow grave of regret. Cities have a way of collecting the wishes upon stars, and dousing them out in to nothingness but silence. I wish upon a star, but all stars die...
I sat on decaying desks of reflection.
My homework, write a moment of life that meant the most. But this is a theory of retrospective collections, tattered and loosely fitting. Writing in faded inks of yesterday. Everything I'd wrote was a failure, never amassing a page of meaning. I knew I wasn't a graduate of life. Mostly a D minus in the accomplishments of what I could have wrote. But instead I just dodged classes and ended up a failure.
Dreamy sequel ceased and
From thin air came a blow, Misery slithered silently Wrenched my heart it though Tremors were deepfelt Not a frown did I show Ma mère accused divinity I knew I did me wrong. Thud fall shook me bad Things were rosy a while ago, Night came down like silk An atonement started to grow When posed an interrogation How come happened so? My eyes averted sheepishly And conscience plummeted low My head accepted verity Mais heart refused to follow, Like a squab shutting eyes To overlook a felis shadow With broken heart, a lost face And failure laden torso Shackled in remorse did I Go sinking down the hydro.
My mère - My mother Mais - But Squab - Baby pigeon Felis - Cat
Checkmate was the moves that followed me,
Each was noted as if known before I had stepped, Frustration gained pace upon my fragile self. Motion seemed stagnant and still, My life was a dismal stalemate of defeat.
When all life feels like is a failure that builds upon each fall
I am not the sophisticated underdog,
I trip and fall through door frames Always unannounced. I am the wavering circle, I give myself away too early in the game Always a red herring.
— The End —