It could be worse. Then again, it could be better. Also, watch the edge; some of this stuff is from the emo days of early high school.
the mask I write before myself may fall.
When I shield my eyes through words,
guise in ink,
Kaua’i ‘Ō ‘Ō.
Whisper into the void,
to never be returned.
she beckons with notes of fragile glass,
Breath is no more than
the ticking of a clock.
moments until twilight.