I admit my awe of superficial things
rendered the fragments of a broken wing
Am I the petals adorned with thorns?
Kindling the embers of escape and reborn
Ever the irony of what I seek
Nurturing mundane desires of bleak
Tempest of temptations born through testaments
Binding my ever-blinding torment
At long last! Was I daunted to the warmth I crave?
Nestling the serendipitous nights and days
enticing me to see amidst the daze
Well, I am still in the “awe of the superficial” phase