clary dew / d10 cb (fin)

Post by gunner, d9 ₊⊹ 👹 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Dec 31, 2017 14:25:55 GMT -5

         

Clary Dew

Maybe she loved
mysteries so much
that she become one

why does the moon have that many faces. what makes a canary sing. questions. questions. that's what my entire life is compiled of. countless questions. never answered. riddles torn apart in frustration. mom says it's in my nature to be inquisitive because i haven't grown yet. but, that's a false statement: when you're five feet six, can prepare dinner for yourself and not scared of the dark anymore, you're legally an adult. mom said to me once and it's true because she speaks the truth. and the monsters in my closet have grown tedious of this space. i think. i don't hear them anymore. but there's no certainty. are they the reason for my fright towards the dark. or is the darkness simply an agent of fear. again, questions. they always come and linger like dust on the window-pane. sometimes, i air them out. i illustrate these questions down in a rose-bound journal, crayon streaks of the mysteries i can't figure out such as a woodpecker's beak – does it ever get dull. such as father's late-nights – where does he go and why does he tiptoe into the house and why is there a red stain on his neck. did he fall down. maybe, through time, i can draw hypothesis from the strokes of color and answer the questions in my head.