Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

The walls of braille, spark up vivid paintings of an awe-filled land. They speak through a girlish voice and reach for my hand, and as I go through it, it breaks like glass. The voices speak, foreboding change at every chance, it's all in my head and I know I'm meant to enhance. I've spun around with the devil and learned his dance, and even so the ground floreshes with pedals made by my eye with just a glance. 


© Jorge Romero Campos, Dicha Shin