Roses are red
Blood runs to my head
Minds sleeping in bed
Seems my heart's dead.
The heavens are gray
With thorns I lay
Red flowers if may
Were completing my day.
The roots on the vase
Like viens on my face
My breath making race
Falling petals I'm paste.
Green leaves turns brown
My feelings were bound
Hear the scream sound
And my sores are round.
Those roses are red
It enters to my head
Thorns and leaves are green
My death, where you've been?
YOU ARE READING
TURTLES
PoetryThis is a compilation of thoughts I have created and grown over my younger youth. A bucket full of randomized downfalls flowing with a young innocent and reckless love. Interpreting life as a fabled fantasy slowly forming paths of footprints in the...
