3.April 2015
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Victim
The liquid of life,
Caught sight of the day,
Through a razor-sharp knife,
Captured in an old portray.
All the torture ends in death,
The ruby tears started drop,
Caused by an endless wrath,
Never will they ever stop.
Outside a robin proclaimed the demise,
Sang of melancholic tragedys to the skies.
The scarlet color stained the ground,
As if he never made a sound.
YOU ARE READING
Free thoughts
PoesíaTake a breath and inhale the scent of thoughtful poetry. Rank #884 in Poetry (16th February 2016)
