elise.writer

The thawed suffering of verdant sprouts
Potentials crushed by our footsteps
Renunciation of Earth, who crumbles

Presents whose only destiny is clutter piling high
On our supposedly special days and stirring

Pale leaves reaching for their own quiet longing we've yet to know
Shiver despite the sunlight that is a little closer to them
Than the window, blanketed in thick screens and