I see,
The Roses burning,
In the Garden of Eden.
'Who set them ablaze?'
You ask.
I swallow my guilt down,
As I'm unable to tell you.
And so,
I whisper to myself,
'You did.'
YOU ARE READING
Scourge: A Poetry Collection
Poetry"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
