Vie.

Why does death fall sedately,
like mist on powdery petals,
of a flower's lashes?

Does light merely take place of a spotlight,
targeting the ill hearted and strong willed,
leaving the people in between in darkness?

Is the opaque, velvet sky a blanket,
stretched to the corners of this round earth,
from which we will fall through?

These thoughts, beautiful, yet scorched with abuse,
vie with our imagination, until the point of madness,
when we are forevermore put down,
and made a part of this cold-hearted world.