UNTITLED
I have built myself a cage of words.
Briar thorns are in the hearts of a thousand birds.
Shadows soak up the morning sunlight.
And nothing is ever good. Ever pure. Ever bright.
I am a coward, I know, and I quietly grieve,
And silence reigns for the space of a semibreve,
And a kindly goddess wills me to act,
While I flounder alone in tangled forests of tact.
And you appear, you are golden, I don’t know you well,
And I am lost, I know, this even I can tell.
To you I shall become a withered memory; something killed;
An afterthought in your dance of dreams fulfilled.