once a time when the coal tar burned the sole of my feet
and the agonising pain reached the string of my heart
searing my flesh leaving it a soot for the artist
burning the ornamental biddings of the gates of my heart
he who holds the pen writes the plot
uneven as it seem, owning to none but a soot from the seethed soul
garished the words of the poets from afar yet lurid and disconcerted in taste by the imposter, here i alight she cried a physical drop of rain from her eyes.
stingy the soot became to the gust of the winds as the pen is held and rewritten in plot that suit the emergence of an era to ordinance.
About the Creator
Abysola Hajaroh
just a wayfarer hopping to catch some butterflies, on some rainy days and a ray of sunshine.
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A long, long time ago there was a family of harvest mice. Mice are common, but these were unique – born to those who had lived in the salty, marshy bay for many generations, these mice ate and drank from the sea as well as the land and rivers. For generations, there were only the southern families, scattered along the marshes of Corte Madera and in the San Francisco Bay (U.S. Fish & Wildlife, 2013). One family, however, would undergo strife and conflict before reaching a whole new world. What became of them after is another tale entirely – but this is how their story begins.
By Taylor Inman7 days ago in Fiction
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