The tannic rust devoured little stardust
in my books,
A line without a hook, the ones who’ve seen things end,
the ones who’ve lost a friend, and the ones who will;
The Sun will play with you a game
of hide and seek in the rain,
I’ll sit beside you with your pain.
The folks and mystics ended centuries ago
that still dictate my being,
The little parrot you named Pepper
was only seventeen;
The Sun swallowed us all, or Time
or life
Or a living thing smaller than our sight.
Nothing heroic was ever done, the history books may say,
Never fought wars, never slayed an army in jails.
But I kept a sword close to my chest
everywhere I went,
I befriended Fear, breathed in foul air;
Every being who lived in this era
was a fighter, a survivor , a hero.
Now these books are nothing more
but a hundred thousand eulogies,
And musings from some poet
who never made it.
Chasing Escapes💫 
History of my world – It amazes me that you are 17 and writing such deep words. So much to ponder and dwell upon with each stanza.
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Omg thank you so much😭💛
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