These are the things I no longer wish to understand.
Things like how much pain can come from the heart,
and how little joy can spring from a laugh.
Where to go when I need to find a knife,
and the place to use it.
How it feels to scream into the void,
and the emptiness that the void brings back.
I no longer wish to understand
how dead a person's eyes can look,
even when their smile is as bright as the sun.
The way someone can break down,
how their tears can create the worst weapons.
And how often I need to hide these soaked blades
and jagged tears from others.
I no longer wish to understand
the roughness of rope,
tightening and constraining against my neck.
How it felt to be weightless.
How many people marched in black
down rows of rain drenched tombs just to cry at mine.
I just wanted to forget.
To not understand.
It didn't work out that way
YOU ARE READING
When The Blood Ran Black
PoetryWhen my demon decided it wanted out, there was nothing I could do to stop it. I could only watch as bloodied claws pierced my skin and shadows leaked through my eyes in black teardrops. It wanted out, and I was content to let it roam. >>>&g...
