Cast Out
Loneliness flits
across my vista.
It is the early morning
and a low lying mist
covers the ground;
if I were to jump
then I would land
as light as a feather
on the smoky grey sheen.
The breeze plays
spider games,
icy trails on naked skin as
shivering, withering
I withdraw back,
too late, so late now
coldness penetrates,
seeping deep to my core.
I shed a tear that
settles into chill air,
for it is a lonely sight,
resonant of misery,
as hearing echoes,
that break the silence,
escaping, shearing
through my fault line,
it burns like white ice
on this, a tissue skin of hurt.
Cast out in a world that
hasn't quite awoken yet.
Poetry by Elle
Read 742 times
Written on 2013-05-11 at 16:53
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