The Soft Bloom Of A Dying Pinwheel

She was broken silver
Unwound and unraveled
She followed the shadows
Of ungranted wishes

Wind comes
Leaving half torn
Remnants of color
A pinwheel once moved
By breath

Sometimes death
Becomes a beautiful life
Lifting her to the other side
Where madness turns
To twisted smiles

I watch her worry
She is churning
The what if’s
The anger
The freedom from chains

Bound by rabid gusts
She pushes through the dust
Heaving heavy in her chest
Sometimes happiness
Begins with lessons
And the soft bloom
Of a dying pinwheel

v.k

About Vennie Kocsishttps://venniekocsis.wordpress.comI am a survivor of Sam Fife's Move Of God cult in which I suffered physical, mental and sexual abuse as a child. If you know, then you know.

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