Crimson. Pink. Blossoms.

Amidst the souls, I own all fame
I'd have rose amongst them, but not in thee
My never creasing grace of obsession
Etched in me is boned with undying devotion
Nerved and blooded with the unspoken passion
What it protrayed now, is merely a tell tale
Either, illustrate me a sheer bliss
Leaving tinge of everlasting aroma to haunt me with love
Or to exagerate that enternal sparkle of burning stones?
Signal me shalt this be spilling through my factual world
By the seconds, it withers my days in dormant soliloquy

Back to my usual morning rush, to complete 7 chapters today, I accomplished 6. At my every arrival to the regional library, I was greeted by security guards at the entrance. Not once, I see them barely with uniforms, always in those wind breakers without fail. The librarian in their usual attire, roaming around freely. Are they polar bears? Everyone in the library is fidgeting and snuggling into their cardigans and sweaters, can't they just adjust the temperature? It's not that they're selling frozen products that we need a freezer to preserve them. Since when do books adviced us to place them under a temperature of four degrees and below? That's for my fresh milk.

Two more days to go.

-Petite Fille-