Gray (A poetry prompt)

An ember, alight

distant, unclear

not yet sure of itself.

The spark wobbles, weaves

kindling the hope

of madness

(and the madness grows)

of passion

(and the passion ignites).

Nervous and insecure

it swells

consuming the gray,

splintering, fracturing

the featureless figure

she had become.

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Greetings From A Squiggly Mind

Just some very random ruminations from the depths of my squiggly mind........