hellowelcome

Lines on a note pad scribble some morose self-centred lyric.

My minds eye is itchy, irritated and dry..

Moments must happen.

Times must become trying.

Belittle the fun of “once was’s.”

As if I had carved a glorious sculpture of past accomplishes.

In all actuality though.

I planted a seed in soil.

A canvas//the plant becoming the brush.

Becoming colours plastered up.

Then with time dwindle down.

Whittled and weathered.

So, much like the ash that brings life from the aftermath.

Set a flame my composition and relearn/relive the craft.

Poem By : EggplantEyes-starlark-RyanGabrielHelminski

(Source: jesuisperdu, via thehorror)