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Literature Text
With this, breath, I finally feel.
Alive. As I should. Butterfly, wings.
Born as they slowly glitter across,
My palette. Gliding past my tongue.
Onto my scarred shoulders. Those,
Wings will know how to make me,
Pretty again.
Alive. As I should. Butterfly, wings.
Born as they slowly glitter across,
My palette. Gliding past my tongue.
Onto my scarred shoulders. Those,
Wings will know how to make me,
Pretty again.
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A verse that came to me a moment ago. I feel it doesn't need anything more to be complete. Feel free to tell me otherwise.
© 2009 - 2024 underworldriver
Comments9
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Lovely imagery. Beautiful emotion. A wonderful job.