It is my personal hell
where they leave me to die
and is as deep as a wishing well
and so heart cries while my head says why
But my body will just lay
on the cold hard ground
with no form of escape in anyway
as is the way the devil wants me found
with no angels or people to mourn over me
no wails or cries be heard
and God be the one to see
my lastly uttered word
and my debt has been paid
a life for a life
my bed has been made
as death the groom and I the wife
YOU ARE READING
The Darkest of Days {#WATTYS 2015}
Acak{Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder - RUMI} {I believed I wanted to be a poet, but deep down I just wanted to be the poem- Jamie Gil De Biedma} Poetry is what you really feel deep within your soul. It's the word...
