avarice
Learn more about other poetry terms
Moon-kissed windows,
projecting the oblivious melancholic sight
of those who shine bright, and
time-blessed gravity defyers
dancing to a rhythm of lust,
like blooming roses in the sun.
Please tell me that we haven't become
Mindless conformities made to match;
to blend in, to mask who we really are.
Why do we follow so closely
this pattern of mediocrity?
