the tune bleeds into my ear ,
i am yet to grab another beer,
or a bottle of gin,
to get rid of each and every sin,
that i have committed today,
which i should've never spoken in any way,
another cup of bluff,
a repeat of snuff,
or yet the naysay of rejection,
and a mirror to hide the simple reflection,
but yet my words make no meaning,
on this page i am simply cleaning.
the raven flew beneath the sky,
so simply flying through the lie,
the lie of which you were born,
so painlessly full of scorn,
the blood soaked through when you were yet slain,
from a simple repeat of your own pain,
replaying and rewinding on a vinyl player,
and yet there was the slayer,
standing surrounded by your own very blood,
knees deep in your own creation of dark red mud,
crimson on a gravel pavement,
turning almost every head as if they were held in a period of enslavement.
YOU ARE READING
Kalopsia.
PoetryKalopsia • Noun ; The state in which everyone and everything looks beautiful. ✧一 一一 一一 一一 一一 一一 一一 一一 and here the words will bleed onto the page of each separate chapter in my mind, and the words will fall so effortlessly out of my eyes. 一 一一 一一...
