She bow her head for the blood had shed,
And trembled in the life that dread
It was not she that ends her life,
But herself that holds the knife
Stumble by twist,
On the knife on her wrist,
It wasn't she that holds the knife,
But herself that ends her the life
In the blood that flows she smiled,
And whispers its grand
Condemned and fool not yourself,
For she and her was yourself
Struggle not and let her in,
Embraced the bloody body that end
Forgive her, for she was lost,
For to her, you is the most
Died body had insist,
In your life she want to exist
Died body and soul united to flee,
For you to be free.......
YOU ARE READING
Breaking Free
PoetryThis is not a story, it's a poem... hahah well, i don't know how to classify this poem..haha i like this poem because it has tricks and you really have to think it's deeper meaning so that you can understand what it really means... well, that's on...
