Words swimming in my head
Body curled up, lying in my bed
Creating different scenarios, all about my death
None of them good, none of them bad
Not willing to choose, it would make them sad
I don’t want them thinking I’d finally gone mad
But it’s tempting, wanna see if my blood could really be red
This is me, black heart, a vapid tongue and walls made of lead
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Author:
Your_dreams (
Offline) - Published: April 19th, 2024 01:39
- Comment from author about the poem: Sorry about the titleðŸ˜ðŸ˜ðŸ˜. Andddd I thought I’d add a tiny bit of info so... here we go: Under normal conditions, lead is relatively soft, easily scratched with a fingernail. But when compressed under extreme pressures, lead becomes hard and strong — even stronger than steel.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 6
Offline)
Comments1
May it block the knife.
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