the sky is bleeding.
it rains down on the poppy fields
drowning the flowers in its blood
please don't let me die
they cry.
—silence
not a soul speaks—
choking out the words
choking on the blood
please don't let me die
they cry.
—but no one makes a move
no one reaches out a hand—
they sink further
stems straining to stay afloat
please just don't let me die
they cry.
—we watch them all go under
not a soul breathes—
and then
when the last petal
is swept up in the flood
the sky stops bleeding
and starts weeping instead.
—the children of palestine
*A/N*
I'm crying as I write this out.
Children are dying.
Please just do what you can.
Free palestine.
SicklySweet708
YOU ARE READING
thorns and other maladies
Şiiranother collection of poems. *TW: mentions of sexual assault, drug use, self harm and other sensitive topics*
