QuietCrowPoetry

Watch the sky above, as petals soar over the colored glass. Her dance breathes life's healed gaze, to love herself she marvels a symphony.

Tell me the tale of blood and bone. The one of anguish, the one of fleeting thoughts and the one so desolate her scream remains unheard. Tell me the tale of fearful fleetless beats. The one of love, the one of raw warmth and the one opening long passages into relentless devotion. Tell me how these tales intertwine as one. The first breathes turmoil, the second yearns winded passion yet the duo fight amidst foolish grace in unison.

Sweetened is the voice until a flit of sour gin touches her sickened lips. Mist fiddles with the tongue to hack out burns of sought love. Not whisper nor wail; it heeds no difference to her ravaged mind.

The name /Criminal/ would be plastered,  but what claim states /I/ should care? Freedom yells my name past thick  spun smoke;  beckoning through bitter anger  and tales left shattered.  Am I brave enough to make the leap? Or am I subject to persist as a slave?

Nature healed scars left by scorching fires,  ignited sparks with such intensity;  where attempt and spry  wonders on concern.

Risen high above the clouds, over breathless mist, yells out a man who downs amongst his own twisted, lavished crown. Tension too thick and punished to drift, yield does he as nothing more could sound.

Caramel blush hits marble mornings until the thing they desire devours their poisoned smiles; broken without health.

Beauty stuck to swim tides of bitter love, writhing into mist boiled and churned by sins of delirious eld.

Soft fool proclaimed to innocence, slow to see the secrets that bleed and drench the porcelain colosseum’s deafening laughter.

Listen to the rustles beneath the blanket of shade. Follow through withered harmony lost beneath the cracks. Deep secrets thrive in wades of the weeping wind’s rage.

Tell me today and I will not fight. Tell me tomorrow and the clash of crimson blood and fur will cry out in furious anger with no way to stop against the roaring inward call.

Even if they may listen, what makes thou worthy of their response? Go back inside, stop thine needless dreams.

Imagine. Imagine a day left all one to itself. One where there is no stress nor havoc fighting against one with sword and shield. One a day with all but peace. With sweet silence may beg for one single day.

Such creatures live and die underneath waves of old unbeknownst to human eye, lost secrets and stories one will never know.

They shine so ever bright, capturing me into their glistening cage with the door wide to stumble inside.

Flutters of feathers through the eve, Lost past eld ruin and mossy stone. Tendrils and branch twist and weave, trying mightly to block the way of woe. Those prevail and escape into open air. Wings beat again and again as one show.