Red,
Painting the walls,
Turning brown,
Getting old.
Red,
In my veins,
Getting old,
I'm leaving soon.
Red,
On your hands,
I left,
It's your fault.
I bled all I could bleed,
I wasted all the red,
All my blood,
On you.
I said goodnight,
I meant goodbye.
YOU ARE READING
Torn Up Pages
PuisiThese poems are something to make you feel. There's something for everyone. I don't know what to say. I hope you like them, but if you don't please tell me why. I know some are sad. I'm sowwy.
