Good was the world but her demons are worse
so she wept and poured her soul
her sept of tears brimmed
and schlept 'til it overflowed
her serenity slept and chaos took control
her kindness is kept like the granules on a shoal
many were swept by her rage
but a myriad of good men stayed
with a sanguine heart they managed
many dove in her bay of sorrow
some got lost, some saw tomorrow
the genesis of her misery remains a mystery
many asked why her waters unrhymed
by virtue of her riddling history
it was clept "ocean", sometimes furious, sometimes kind
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Scholar & Scribe Poetry Contest #3
Despite being bestowed the name “Heather”, I found home in ephemeral.wisteria, which are two contradicting things: ephemeral being something that lasts for a very short time and wisteria symbolizing long life and prosperity. At the young age of 17, I look forward to telling tales and amplifying voices. I am a dramatic vine. I adore acting. I dance as if no one is watching. I see books as realms and art as portals. I’ve got a couple of trades in my pocket but never did I get to master one. Although I still cannot fathom why I desire to ink the paper, I do know that I write because my heart tells me to and somebody out there is destined to read it.
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Art by ephainia on deviantart
