The roses were red,
The violets were blue,
The words you said,
Were "I love you".
But it's just a dream,
All those flowers and such.
I want to scream,
It hurts so much.
The cuts are red,
The bruises blue,
I wish I was dead,
Or that the dream was true.
YOU ARE READING
Almost a poet
PoésieI'm trying my luck at poetry so it'd be great to get some feedback. Keep in mind that these poems are strongly related to depression, anorexia, and things of that sort. If you are recovering, this story is not recommended for you.
