I’ve always been one to wonder of life, to think of a way out, or more a way through. Clobbered by days that wrap around a yo-yo. Woe to my heart that yearns for a beautiful day, filled with grace. Yet I stare at the burning flower the blooms on this late autumn evening:
In chaos blooms flowers
Riches in flames that decay like a spring breeze
Slipping in and out like a thorn bush
That’s forever pointing at you
I sulk deep through my thoughts
The resembles time as quick sand
My soul yearns for a complacent place in this world
Frozen and rewritten while drawn against brick walls
And dusted halls
The fire blooms on
Amongst all the thoughts that speak louder and louder
I ask myself who am I to be-
When the world flips over on itself
Who am I?
When I no longer can find my place
Theirs beauty in the madness
Didn’t you know?
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