~Beautiful Crime~
Butterfly wings flutter carrying the sound of my voice
Streams run off with my sight
Drums drown out my hearing
the sun scortches my taste
A lesson you say I need
But with this, must I suffer
Must I sit here to wait it out
Shall I see where I end up
You say no, that this is not a lesson
Yet a punishment, for not asking
asking to see the beautiful purple mountains and pine
asking to smell the dusty air of wheat
asking to listen to the larks speak
asking to smell the columbine and leaves
And yet you sit here causing a fuss over a yet you too commit every hour.
By. Anonymus