"Happy?"...he asks, clearly looking for words to fill an awkward deep silence that normally occurs after some grave destruction. Illusions. Dreams. Blown away in an instant? A foolish perhaps even audacious question given that he was the source of destruction. The answer: more silence. She could scarcely believe what had been asked. Happy? Ha! What mockery. Unnecessary small talk. Everyone has their delusions. Little thoughts that spark happiness. Such is the hilarity of the madness that one can be driven to, by "love".
At least this one had reached its conclusion.
~Rosetta 🥀
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Picture Poetry
PoetrySometimes life isn't just words. It's colour, texture, sounds, smells and sights. Living life means being open to each of these elements, and if you are, then the poetry is constantly in motion. Whenever I travel, or see something that motivates me...
