Madness is my rawness
A cool wind trickling in
Through the carelessly
Blindless blinds in a breeze.
Through my heart I sense exposure
A germinated seed standing tall
With dandilions and sweet summer grass;
An attic vent left unkempt.
Longing for Sun to strike
A moment I’ve anticipated on the wall
But each of them still blocked as past tense
Scented with a candle’s wick.