• trippy_potato 9w

    Mercy heights

    Alone,
    White snows,
    Crunch underfoot,
    This desolate expanse.
    No sound,
    But white dreams
    And memories
    And footfall.

    Alone,
    No horizon,
    White laved
    Sight worn.
    No lights
    But the pale sky
    Yet mimics
    Lucidity.

    Alone,
    Hungered,
    Castaway,
    Spineless.
    Gods chant
    In aurorae
    Of prophecy
    So mindless.

    Alone,
    Yet so many
    But silent
    And stood still.
    The wind come
    To take me;
    None glimpse,
    None sob.

    ┬ętrippy_potato