Your lips are stained with red.
A bleeding from the head.
It drips on your bed.
You seem to stand dead.
Dead in the head.
Your hands hold a mark.
A dread of the dark.
Your eyes seem to bark.
Because of the finding in the park.
Park in the dark.
Your eyes hold a darkness.
That holds you like a harness.
And then we find your carcass.
To find that you've been heartless.
Caused by the darkness that holds a carcass.
YOU ARE READING
My Lost Mind
PoetryMy life isn't always the easiest. Or the hardest. But either way my mind is lost. Travel with me across my thoughts to help us both discover my lost mind.
