Mist

The morning dew
caution oh spring
flowers
for the wind is chilly
it'll likely cut your head off
if you are not
careful

the saddest silhouette
is the one the sings the most beautiful song
to an empty field
of desolation
in the far reaches of the abyss
where true meaning lies

the world is devoid of that mist
of pristine sorrow
of real pain and suffering and of
love