Blood thickening,
Arts of dire crimson paint the walls.
Knocking onto the heart,
Jolts pumping through.
My body slams into the pools.
A swim of dreams,
It was warm, it was soft.
Pillow like pools of red comfort my cheek.
Broken pieces of me
Scattered through the metaphysical being.
Shattered.
Hurt.
Why do you step over me?
-
Author:
Henry Canticle (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 27th, 2021 03:30
- Comment from author about the poem: Ah
- Category: Sad
- Views: 30
Offline)
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