Fingers
hardened and black
death shrouded omen
cold
engulfed purity
so many emotions
I could call this
untitled
one wave
of a decaying hand
closed third eye
to the bloodied hours
catharsis is best done raw
with music circulating memories
around a bruised and disorientated head
interlude
let the melody
drown visions of the sea
I'm not strong enough to walk on sand
untitled
I should call this such a name
for no words describe harmonies
left in limbo's solitude
reprise
let the hammer-on take me
where smiles are remembered
not snowflakes or machines that cease
when the heart no longer beeps
Poetry©Words Among Trees
Image - from Google
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