Thin curved strokes run along in heavy black,
formed into a picture of perfection...

Moon waning,
Stretching it’s mighty limbs...

Compassion engaged,
in feats of denial and rage...

Search deep within yourself,
do you really know me...

Words catching in my swollen throat
your egotistical as you brag and gloat...

*This was too long for a quote*
At the stroke of twelve, his soft lips brush hers...

Your round eyes look soothed
Watching the sauntering rain...

a child’s curiosity,
an image of comical proposition...

Left from the memories, I cry myself to sleep,
waking in insomnia, in darkness I creep...

Broken and edged in pain,
a girl lays crying in vain...

Close your eyes,
don’t let go...

I live underground,
beneath the soil I trod...