arson.

It was a time when everything mattered for none.

I held in my hand the solitude of new beginning.

And as creation spoke in different tones, we sat deafened.

Casual.

Aptitude of disorder, I am no longer of heart.

No longer of great.

No longer of love.

The legs stand haltered.

The moon grasps.

It was a time when everything mattered for none.

The cartoon hands of generals, wave.

Sheep scatter.

Chaos smiles.

I was wearing the color of arson.

Created of that which art could not remake.

I stood, grounded.

It was a time when everything mattered for none.

Comments ( 2 )

  1. Anon

    The imagery is almost there, but it reads as pretentious.

  2. Diana

    Pretentious, how so?

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