Innocence Falls

The white feather

drifted, lightly on the draft

slowly spinning, circling

 

Landed in paint

crimson lines bled up the shaft

staining its purity

a burning scarlet

 

The burning intensified

turning red

to black

charring its remains

 

to be scattered in a breeze

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741