Withering by the prolonged waiting for someone is strangulation of euphoric flavor.
© Spriha Kant
Opt...2 roads i have a choice... Option... Can i raise my voice.... My conciouness... Talking... Should i trust him cause am him... Either... That's another route.... With different signs... I need yahh... As i lose myself..... In the mist darkness.... Can you hear my words... These words teach yah.... Cause they are the world.. Scripture... I ain't a preacher... But am the last prophet... I have been here. Wither My soul...dry... Drought change season position... Like pieces of a draft.... I doubt...the pen in my veins... It carries alot of secrets pains... Its the 14 day.. Observing the periods.... ******* cycle repeat... Is this my defeat... I wither... Lose all i had dehydrated... Probably my soul in stilled in society and social media hatred... Comment... that's my last moment.... Sweat and tears... My own body Wither...from decision taken either -kay🌹 Aka...🕊️-son of lee-dia-🕊️
Either or wither...2topics as a single poem
A little rain then
Sun, save us a seat for two. In time, I know that Our flowerbeds may wither, But I will still dance with you.
I cannot grip
warmth love you with my decaying hands i wither away
You didn't have to salt my fields
after the war The devastation had been wrought cowardly crops Turn away from the bright sunlight dying slowly
reflecting on those bitter wars of self
submerged in a cascade of
cacophony, my pieces wade like fish, into semptember's silvery net so its plundering pull would heave them out from their misery, grant them purpose in the mouths of fortunes, that gobble them as delicacies; they wither, till my egg-fragile heart unravels itself, savors the warmth of the virgo sun, and hatches immaculately, into me.
Lofty unspoken Dreams
tear at the tattered seams it seems we were meant to be unraveled to be undone & burn with the sun to be at peace with chaos or else wither away under the crushing weight of mortality.
is stuck down in the drain wetting my dress and drying my veins my skull it grew in too late making me spin in a hellscape of hate nothing's the same and everything's great my hands are shedding their nails waving goodbye to blood on the trails my legs cannot hold their weight my bones look the same as the ones on my plate nothings's the same and everything's great my chest it knocks and it shakes pinning me down how low can it take my corpse should rot in a case inside of the flesh where I used to be safe nothings the same i'm going to faint
and so each petal fell
one by one until none was left why do flowers bloom only to wither in the end?
I've read somewhere sometime ago that 20 is the age you start losing friends and I'm scared. I don't have many to lose.