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:
๐ฆเพเฝฒโ๐ช๐๐ต๐ฎ๐ฒ๐ฐ๐ฑ ๐ฆเพเฝฒ (
Offline) - Published: July 24th, 2025 11:26
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 15
- 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. ๐ค๐๐ฏ๏ธ๐ฆโโฌ
thanks!
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.