The House of Withered Boughs
Time is short—yet loneliness spans beyond these stone walls.
Hatred sprouts in cold hearts, as longing for warmth home coils tight.
I am caged in brass and iron, where no flowers bloom, no zither sounds roam.
Why sorrow dwells in my fleeting days?
The maple leaves refuse to fall—they shun snowflakes like illusion.
In vast woe and hue, I dream of those who walk free skies.
No one understands in unborn blossoms; every dry season chokes my soul.
Still, I hope fate amends—to wander free, without remorse.🌘✨ 01102026 ©LanZhan
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