Young Writers Society

29. facade

words and deeds can thread through a soul, like a needle through delicate silk
weaving cloths into puppets, put on display as a frown or fire, burning through piercing eyes
as nothing more but a open book, laying bare with its secrets naked for opponents
but no soul hides away emotions when on the battlefield
it beams from red coloured teeth, shining black and polished with pride
still I would pick up a sword to learn how to shield with armour of steel, hiding daggers in a middle
and aftermath of salt thrown into wounds that scrape a line to the throat
faces across the field won’t see my eyes glitter with ice, burning in my head
as I stand in front of my enemies with a face of facade

30. Words that fade away in grey castles



In old times, I would be sitting near a fire
Flickering like the burning desire of dreams as I life through
Different parts of a high castle with paintings of grey,
With a quill between my fingers and ink stains
On my gown that drapes on the gleaming floor.
Enveloped in loving darkness, caressing my cheeks as
I write down words of a world born from my imagination in cursive lines,
Scraping on the glowing skin of parchment,
Slowly the clock will chime past midnight and the birds will quiet their singing,
The fire shall dime to a candle in a bowl and so too the blanket of black shall retreat
As the words begin to fade into pieces of tales, hidden away.
For as autumn leaves, golden moments wither and fall
Like this cold foreign castle covered in grey.