Modern Romanticism

Moldable creation,
digging through your pages
to find something else
other than emptiness.
Blank pages tell of what
you've tried to hide,

kissing your reflection
for what ruin looks like.

I've come to remind
that displaced mind
that there's more to know
than this sadness you rewind.

Silver tears,
bleeding into streaks,
letting yourself become
everyone else's sun.
You'll love to quell those
who've never come close
to see your hurt,
to fathom what resides
within a burning home.

Comfort yourself
through a different position,

to never contort that which
could be its fulfilling decision.