deepundergroundpoetry.com

Heart Swell



He wishes the sky was white. Actually, he
bids it be no color, so he can
see the stars in the daytime.

He creates the tree in many colors, then
gives it away. He notices the smallest
strokes in treasured masterpieces.

He is flawed, mercifully. An angel would
be sent on holy missions. Keep ‘perfect’ for
instanced Nirvanas, let him be.
Written by Atakti
Published
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