the wind whispers through the walls
as hollow as her soul
she lays motionless atop the sheets
as fragile as a doll
her arms are crossed upon her chest
no pigment colours her skin
jet black hair fans around her head
the quiet is deadly as sin
her lips are soft and cherry red
but she has lost her glow
her soul bids the earth goodbye
as she will soon be below
YOU ARE READING
dark poems
Poetrythis seems like poetry and prose sometimes it's more than you'd suppose see, what my mind creates, goes but what that is, nobody knows
