i can't see through
the crimson.
my design unveiled,
my home is my prison.
I can't swim through
the River Scarlett.
death to you,
death to the harlot.
you're only strong
when all your bones have broken,
you will speak,
only when spoken to.
-
Author:
𝓱𝓪𝔂𝓵𝓮𝓲𝓰𝓱 (
Offline) - Published: July 24th, 2025 11:26
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 17
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Licence, Damaso, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments4
This poem seems metaphor to me. It has several possibilities one of which is how a woman feels treated by those around her and is touchingly sad and judgemental. Well written
thanks
You are most welcome
A sensitive write of how some woman are still treated especially by those who should care for them, only speak when spoken to, a phrase that says it all, nicely expressed and written
thank you
You are very welcome
Wow, raw and sad. A beautiful facade of lights hides sad silences of darkness. I really enjoyed it, thanks for sharing. Best regards.
thanks
What a striking and intense piece, Hayleigh. The imagery bleeds with pain and defiance...raw, rhythmic, and unflinching. Truly, an excellent job, my dear friend. 🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
thanks!
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