I became death the day I was born, slowly growing towards it, being torn
from the realm that was once adorned by every cyclops and horn
worn by dragons, forlorned
lions with manes, flesh torn…
Leaving your rains to feed my wealth
I know I had to bloom, finding my stealth
Did you have to bring monsoons? My soil sandy, still so much room
Breath that causes sound, where that breath comes from no one has found
Sound is what creates everything you see,
it vibrates the air forming energy into things.
thaisswrites 