Fear

Tiny Red Faces stare up at me
with each tiny slice, they are set free.
Small scarlet faces bleed rivers of red
they scream to me saying It's all in my head
Tiny Red Faces remind me i'm here,
these tiny red faces are what I most fear.

a really crappy poem thing idk

nostalgia ran down the glass
time passed.

the light hit the leaves in such a way,
you would think it was summer on the cold winter day

The iridescence pressed itself against the pane
It danced down the window, dying at the frame.

I watched with great horror, but spoke with great ease,
because the first days of spring were only a tease.

a poem(:

your scent clings to me like
cigarettes
i remenisce the beauty of what was
while the awakening of what is
scratches my conscience like
broken glass
i need the past
i need you.