You're a cheeky little dragonfly.
And I'm one of the few that know why.
I know you're imps that have past away,
Which is why you remain mischievous, day to day.
Oh then there is the butterfly,
Souls of dead fairies, that's why
They're so beautiful, and hide from us all.
Because they know, and we aren't fools.
Then there are the ants you see.
The hardworking humans, they used to be.
So next time you kill a little bug,
You shouldn't laugh or be smug.
ยฉOdd
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Just a some what "odd" girl, living in what feels like a glass box. Hello Opuss, the savour of my sanity. my little private world amongst a life of being watched and watching.
There's a great library in the sky, And it's filled to the top with books. Each has a different author, But none can be borrowed or took.
In the night. When things are still. And the absence of light. Brings on a chill. There are eyes that watch you. Through the thick black. And ears that listen. When illuminance is lacked.
Silvery ghosts hang still in the air, Standing in silence, empty stares, Forgotten in life and now in death, So cold, without pulse or breath, Still statues left alone to weep, Through restless,...
It quickens and it slows, In opposite directions, It teases and it taunts, And it plays with my affections.
There are those that do believe. That the stars represent our souls. Our lost ones looking over us. Watching how our lives unfold. But I believe the stars. Represent wishes held in our hearts.
Slow burn. Worlds turn. And yet they stay. In their place today. Times change. And rearrange. Embrace the new. When they look for you. The old will seem. Like a fading dream. They hide, they guide.
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