austere zephyr
This is supposed to be my chapter
as I got named to be the captor;
yet losing myself—
like spare change on the street.
Staggering stabs of aching strain,
fills my heart with swaying pain.
Cutthroat sentiment—
igniting the fireplace’s ember.
Memories set to become null
getting hard to remember,
looming eyes—
as reality starts feeling dull.
Butterflies flutter their wings
when mirror glass does shatter
shards flailing—
red carnations wither.
As if my hands are tied together,
preventing me to cut out letters
from a newspaper—
to write my ransom note.
elfin cloak
runic storm