Little Suns

We’re little suns
Waiting to be fully born.

No one knows us,
We hide underneath
Beacons of normality
And dead flowers.

We smell like honey
But taste like bitter leafs
Not fully horrible,
But enough to make one frown.

We are never honest,
Our inner universe
Lies in obscurity
And before we enter it’s
Wonder,
There is another celebration
Of nothingness
To salute.

We adorn each other with veils,
As to dismiss that which
We want to escape.
That which pains us all
The root to
The ground shaking.
Our inner shaking.

~ by Aquatic Poetry on November 24, 2011.

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