Fragile heart,
Broken soul,
Laying upon the sheets,
Blood pooling,
Making a halo of crimson.
Winking in the moonlight,
The blade in her hand,
Shining upon her,
Her lifeless eyes,
Pale face.
A story so woeful,
Tragedy upon tragedy,
Has consumed the light,
Of this wasted life.
YOU ARE READING
In the night.
PoésieIn the night, a blade sliced the skin of a wrist. The life of another was lost to this last resort.
