written by pearl

The frosty morning is freezing -

with icy glares, flicking its tearing

drops of ocean, engulfing me with

the hollowing gallon of gasoline.

These red strains are getting tainted

by shaking steps; just like those

red roses, beautiful in eyes but

cutting veins through pumping thrones.

I embrace myself to prevent shouting,

prevailing wage of black clasping, I -

collapse in chilling dust, if I ain't just

a body, then who am I?

Even transparent mirrors fail to pass,

grazing in the nipping of object:

which is supposed to show, a look

closely -it's just an illustration of pictures.

These glasses don't depict the real

enigmatic spectre, it's just a replica

of standing phantom - which is just

breathing, an existence without identified.

this illustration of pictures break,
I'm torn between pieces.

━━━━━━━━━

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