Words flow,
Like blood,
Out of my Veins.
I don't like,
Being lost,
In my head,
Where words,
Don't hold a meaning,
Anymore.
And hence,
I let,
Words bleed,
Through,
My fingertips.
YOU ARE READING
Scourge: A Poetry Collection
Poesia"I have Scourged your soul, While you drew on me, So intricately. All I can ask for, Is forgiveness, Which I don't deserve, Anymore." Scourge: A poetry Collection
