Colour the snow with your blood,
Stark red against the purest white,
The canaries sing in your memory,
Or maybe you'd prefer the fresh of spring,
Then let your life flow over the jasmine,
Stain it deep with regret.
Call the hibiscus by its name,
Watch the pollen float by in the sky,
Your arms reach out to hold on,
All you get is the bee sting,
Even that doesn't hurt,
As your life pours from the heart.
Stain the grass red and brown,
Nourish the soil with your blood,
Let new life take form,
Maybe that will have a better chance,
Unlike you.
YOU ARE READING
Whispers of the Mind
PoetryLocked up inside, the mind speaks to you. Sometimes, it tells you of your past wishes, sometimes it becomes the cause of your spirals, and even more times, it allows you to dream. What a wonderful place this world could be if everyone achieved their...
