If purple is the hardest color
For the eye to see
Then maybe all us purple-lovers
Are seers to the fairylands
Where dawn spirits sing
And poet bells ring
Harbingers of the night
To our awaiting ears.
Purple
More by OverTheRainbow
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perfect//imperfect
There’s a girl in my grade who cut herself last week.
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Home
submission for next year's challenges :D
Describe your home - outside or inside. What about it feels like your home, or not? What makes a home in your mind?
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that poet feeling
does anybody else get that feeling deep in their chest, sharp like it's begging to come out but also soft as in fire soft, embers in a hole in the ground?
Comments
I love this poem, especially as a purple lover! :)
Thanks!
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