It’s an emptiness.
But is it really?
There’s an ache that exists, and you can be surrounded by amazing organisms and still feel it.
That terrible, awful, remembering ache.
It feel like you’re drowning in the midst of an oxygen bubble.
Which doesn’t make sense; is the water imaginary? Is it all in my head?
No, couldn’t be.
Because even if I’m not drowning, no one’s popped the bubble just to see.
– Back to the writing wheel, yet again. ~ M
Why do your eyes glimmer always with hope?
Perhaps it is because of your kind heart.
Maybe it is your willing soul coming to life.
Perhaps an underlying nature to do good.
Maybe simply for the benefit of others.
Why does your smile only glimmer when it tells truth?
Perhaps your mind is tired of being under crucible.
Maybe the lies seeping through you hands are tired.
Perhaps your heart is weary of believing its lies.
Why do you only show me your good side?
Perhaps I am special to you in your mind.
Maybe you’ve only known kindness from few.
Maybe we’ve both grown to only show the good side.
Perhaps both of our sad stories match.
On the mossy green grass here,
Where everything is laid to rest.
Where souls are transported from the soil,
And are lifted to better purpose.
Belladonna leads the essence of grey,
The tombstone matches its pale way.
The other bright flowers offer no solace,
What lays in the ground is still soulless.
Belladonna makes the bravest of hearts tremble,
For it is a reminder of a chipped family,
Which can no longer be assembled.
Belladonna flowers are still a curse,
Near my heart, and near a hearse.
I wish this flower upon no other,
For it brings with it the death of another.