An ethereal being with a
plastic heart
Pliable enough to dodge the bullets that taint “pure” to “evil”
But subsceptible to disfigurement when placed under a flame, melting and in turn,
hardening like the cool wax of a
candle
In such tense conditions, the ethereal being cannot survive
The dodging was pointless
A being with a hardened heart would have
no problems at all.
I haven’t written poetry in over a year, hence the title “Nonsense” to describe the amount of clarity this poem has. I am trying to warm back up to it; I wasn’t very good at it to begin with, but I was very passionate about it. I hope it can be something I can bring back into my life.