I am walking on my own laced path
with frills and throbbing water
Discern the reality, Observe.
Titanium clocks strike the moment of truth
I am as soft as the morning baked bread,
Eyes peeping into your glass carved twists,
Sonder. Hallucination. Expectation. Ashes.
Death shall come eventually,
choking your doors and my windows
What does human fight for, if not humanity?
Coffins: decorated and flowered
I speak veracious lights of thorns,
Puddle. Soil. Palpitations.
© My Valiant Soul