|Home: Poetry: Ivy McKnight: Acceptance|
Sapphire soul amongst clouds of green grass,
which hovers on marshmallow wings,
above nice yellow flowers so painfully soft,
and merciless black spider kings.
Where is that brave lion which protects all that's right,
and curses all that is wrong?
She sat there last Tuesday; I saw her, you see,
yet now it would seem that she's gone.
Perhaps it's the violence, perhaps it's the hate,
that so easily scared her away,
and destroyed my fair world which I never could leave,
to enter meticulous grey.