Muse |
Muse |
Tears that stain my face, Invisible to the eyes That gaze and spy. Those salt beads trickle like Pebbles on a beach, Made of magnified sand that Takes a hit, hit after hit and shrinks But never runs too far. The cobbles they make as they cry; A muffled bell in disguise, They sing but no one hears their call Apart from the seagulls masking their fall. Endless sea. Smooth horizon. Stretch and recede like a waving tide, Mind the rips and the current falling back, Back, back to where the moon strikes again. Tears fall. So do pebbles. Marbled and marvelled in their temporary dress. Masquerade, no sir! It's a rewind. Life go backwards. Becoming no more than dust. We are born. In the stars. We cry ourselves out. Originally written in 2015, age 19
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AuthorSamantha is a doctoral researcher researching the power of figurative language in advertising, social media, and mobile technology. Copyright © 2022
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