Wednesday, September 30

Her Fall


And she falls off from the mount.
The tall story that she believed was just a fiction.
She couldn’t hold the white lie.
And she hop’s off the mount again.
Broken hip, Bleeding horn.
She weeps, shedding tears, keening.
And she hop’s off the mount again.
But her bohemian soul still stood there.

Hushed as halcyon era and idyllic. 

2 comments:

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