She is fire in rain
Broken but still the same
Pushed and bled
But she doesn't believe honor is dead
Torn apart by hounds
Her spirit knows no bounds
But in the dark she sees red
In the dark she knows honor is dead
She knows the lines means wrong
That she is not strong
But claret makes her free
Yet, they will not let her be
Tear stained cheeks
She has not breathed for weeks
Wearing a smile that feels wrong
And she sings a song
Of pain and blood
Her reverie turns to mud
A distance gale
Blinded by the veil
All she sees now is crimson
And no one seems to listen
YOU ARE READING
Edged between
Poetry#673 in poetry its the lines project... so I thought I'd do a little poem.. Which turned into a series thanks to @KittyHazelnut They may be bad but they keep me from the edge. If can suffer through about half of them you might get to something tha...
