EllaDesbals
Greenlighter
I am not fragility;
I am more than you think.
I am more than I think;
this room cannot hold me
with its bright eye above us
and the silence that you give it.
You are only
traces of a man,
your house
a forest of bone.
You neglect to play me music now,
you drink but do not rage.
I am somehow inverted by this place,
an antithesis of your fear,
your undoing of time
with fingers once gentle,
now locked and trembling;
your mourning
for the scotch
now swallowed.
You with your frosted gaze,
you were never ready for this:
my appetite to be free
of your shady, autumn humanity.
If I stride out now
it will be in acceptance
of this tug of life,
a scar under your eyes.
I am more than you think.
I am more than I think;
this room cannot hold me
with its bright eye above us
and the silence that you give it.
You are only
traces of a man,
your house
a forest of bone.
You neglect to play me music now,
you drink but do not rage.
I am somehow inverted by this place,
an antithesis of your fear,
your undoing of time
with fingers once gentle,
now locked and trembling;
your mourning
for the scotch
now swallowed.
You with your frosted gaze,
you were never ready for this:
my appetite to be free
of your shady, autumn humanity.
If I stride out now
it will be in acceptance
of this tug of life,
a scar under your eyes.
