It welcomes me with open arms
Wrapping itself around my tender skin
Embracing me into a cool, beauteous trance
Welcoming me home.
For who is this creature
With its righteous claws and its jagged skin
Being ever so kind
Inviting me in?
Guide me through the woods
Lead me through this undeniably wretched place
So dark
But it prevents me from being afraid with its soft, welcoming face.
Thank you, kind sir
Your monstrous state of physical appearance
For I know better now
-a.h.
YOU ARE READING
whirring | 1
Poetry❝Hope is the thing with feathers that perches into the soul - and sings tunes without words - and never stops at all.❞ [welcome to whirring act one. this is the first installment of my personal poetry. these writings are so near and dear to my heart...
