Our minds will continue to race evermore. Most will circuit exhaustingly around the same tract; repetitively crossing the same checkpoints. However very few are ****** with the judgement of dissatisfaction even whilst nudging at the summit of enlightenment; he who will perpetually bring enthusiastic evolution onto society.
Daisy. A little flower with white petals that sometimes turn pink. An orange centre that withstands the constant extraction of those petals, with the pang and echo of tiny voices shouting “He loves me; he loves me not”- Often mistaken for a ****.
Daisy. A girl who winces with insecurity Every time the nearest dandelion clock is Plucked from the soiled earth around her. She watches with wet, reddened eyes as she is paralysed (If being limbless can equate to such a feeling) And unable to stop the careless children blow away Time as if it were some sort of lark- Seed by seed.
Daisy. A witness to the exposure of stalks and leaves alike; A veteran of the unwanted embrace and, indeed, The wanton thieving of petals and memories and silence and voice Combined. She is swaying but explicitly not Bending to the wind. She stands her ground, and She has blossomed.
front and centered about face warriors unite & win thy race captivity is no more a mire illusion of a mindless roar subconsciously I'm fearless reincarnation of a lioness crawling from the abyss of nightmares & terror knowing that you here knowing that you hear knowing that you heard my silent weeps into the night no more freight its always been alright traveling through a dark tunnel, yet I see the light keep going, keep on a going victory is mine.