Holding up my dress,
Walking through the gardens.
I'm such a mess,
I've already had a hundred pardons.
Admiring the flowers,
Touching their petals.
They have unknown powers,
Yet don't sting like nettles.
A rose draws my attention,
Crimson like blood.
Ignoring my suspension,
I step towards it through the mud.
Blood pours from my finger,
I was pricked by a thorn,
The feeling seems to linger,
Where the skin was torn.
A curse is upon me,
I will sleep a hundred years,
I blame my stupidity,
Why can't I be like my piers?
(Original)
Hey 👋.
If there's poems similar to my poems (yes, they're all mine. *cue seagulls from finding nemo*)
Then I apologise, I had no idea.
These just come from the deep unknown undiscovered depths of my brain. (Not sarcasm)
_dont_steal_my_food_
YOU ARE READING
Original Poems
PoesiaPoems I write in my notebook. They aren't brilliant but they're not bad either, hope you like them. Sneak peek: "Blood dripping from a Rose, Is like seeing an angel cry, It's unholy, never to be seen, It's heart has bled dry." All original, no copy...
