The violence, it was sweet
Such as it cant be spoken of.
The trembling begins from calmness
the motion appears out of a shadow
that awaited, awaited long
becoming itself when stepped into.

The sharpness of the thought,
it burns with suffering
as if suffering itself seeks existence
to give birth to the thought.

The scent, how it has searched
hovering, colluding with the sound
it burst forth onto the scene
armored yet forgiving.
Its color is blue.