Pretty lies with red pills
under an umbrella
of misconstrued empathy
is fair
Grovelling eyes on
red pills painted blue
near the boat of burning truth
is me
the others are invisible
beaconings of black and white
The Route
A Blind Bird
There's no sky, just stars.
A Blind Bird 
So little poem, and yet so strong, It touched me. The image to the poem, is work of art, it too touched me.
LikeLike
Thank you. Much appreciated. =)
I agree, the image is very intriguing, it inspired me to write the poem.
LikeLike
This is beautiful, short but powerful and moving, im in love with your writing, could you let me know what you think of my most recent poem, it’d mean alot
LikeLike
Thank you very much. Means a lot. ❤
I just did. Hope it helps. xx
LikeLike
I think this may be the first time I’ve ever witnessed the plural, present, perfect tense of the verb form of the word “beacon.”
LikeLike
And you might never again. I don’t think it’s supposed (more like allowed) to be used that way but I did it anyway. Haha.
LikeLike
I love it. Weird words and word usages make me smile. 🙂
LikeLike