She lies in a bed of thorns
Capsized by her flowing blood in her veins
Her arms contain secrets and black magic
Of cognizance, scars and malicious cells
Knowing her prognosis by heart
Her beating flame of hope will be overthrown
She seeks warmth in morphine drops
That send her to a transient heaven of sorts
Left in the cold bed of dead roses and its intact thorns
She longs for her birthday to come by and drop her a kiss
Whereas her knowing haunts her still
That her demise is imminent
Lost in her morphine dreamscape
She lies in a bed of ambrosial nirvana
Keeping in mind that her while has come quite early
And she's ready to dive into oblivion of the hereafter.
YOU ARE READING
Blaze
PoetryA collection of songs intertwined in her head that she weaves into a web of intellectual words and let's them flow free in the form of poetry. **actually really cringey poetry that I wrote in the span of a year when I was 14**
