Fringes Of Red Ribbons. Caskets Of The Suddenly Dead.
Bed Of Roses. Handfuls Of Dirt N The Pretty Palms That Hurt.
Flirt With Death Then Cuss Out All Life.
Knife N The Butt Of A Lass That Was Thought Of As So Bad.
Sad, Is The Blood Moon On This Night, Weeping Tearz Of Pure Crimson.
Obsidian Mask Disguises The Face Of The 4most Of Scourges. Such A 1 This Particular Poet, Most Assuredly, Must Dread.
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Author:
Broken Ankh (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 31st, 2023 11:24
- Comment from author about the poem: A Melancholy Yet Refreshing Piece, My Friendz?
- Category: Surrealist
- Views: 3
Offline)
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