Comments: Hmmm...I think I might like this one.

Silk

Last snowfall, with the hushed creak of brittle bones,

The play didn’t always follow that aging sequence.

Not to long ago there thrived a hidden brilliance,

Dwindled away because of downcast stares,

A deserting eminence can be recaptured.

But with each spidery exhale, her Armageddon,

Is approaching its finale.

On the fourteenth floor,

Always impersonating something it can’t be,

She thinks it’s rather unlucky.

That noble lady was always an elusive mystery.

So watching the bruised strands of silk,

They always told the truth, with the bubbling liquid.

Staring down the icicle path,

She reminiscing on the disappearance

When she became the rag doll, instead of the princess.

She receives her due and for that she should be content,

Who does she think of when you’re gone?

You who have bartered and given her few,

You who have little seedlings of you.

I tell you the youthful will grow shrivel with knowledge.

Naïveté does not survive in our being,

Scar the small and they will learn to thrive.

And for this reason is she rotting,

Decomposing into the bacteria which will fester our land.

Do blame her and never her supporters.

For what she was, was beautiful but as the snow melts you see what it hides

And the filth is always purged from our land.

Thankfully she can cleanse herself,

Burning gates that welcome her are what she hears,

That and the sound of the lava scream echoing through her ears.

A/N: Thanks for reading and remember to R&R (constructive criticism is always nice.)