A piano sitting in an empty space,
The song in your heart starts to race.
You place your fingers upon the keys,
And the silence around you begins to cease.
Faeries are the creatures of fantasy;
A childhood tale.
Unable to explain the ecstacy,
We try to imagine such beauty but we simply fail.
We tend to do this.
And we tend to do that.
We can wear our hair curly.
Or we can wear our hair flat
Good people died,
Survivors hardly thrived.
Loved ones soon perished.
And peace became cherished.
Bound by the rocks surrounding it,
On the sand by the sea
Never trying to restrain its flames
Flitting color across the faces of the people who
Animals that were once busy
Beginning to retreat, a
Caressing breeze sings through the trees
Developing a new curiosity as
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
Sometimes it is not outwardly seen
And sometimes it comes when you get older.
But what if the beholder’s eye isn’t so keen?
Why are you here?
To make us cower in fear?
The only thing you do is kill.
The people you touch are weak and ill.
I’m sorry dad.
I didn’t mean to be spoiled.
I didn’t know that you were so mad.
It was scary when your emotions uncoiled.