If my pen is my sword,
Then my blade is my brush,
Specializing in crimson shades.
My canvas is one of porcelain,
Contrasting my silvery blades.
Perfect rosy pearls bubble up.
Slowly they merge together,
Becoming the raging Red Sea.
The sea acts as a barrier,
Separating pain and reality.
Intricate mazes and whimsical swirls
Have been carved by my trained hands.
Some take minutes. Others, years.
Either way scarlet feathers
Blossom forth from my tears.
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In Darknesss
PoetryThis is a collection of poetry I have written on darker subjects such as suicide, death, self harm, etc. If this may be triggering to you, proceed with caution. Some of these were written in my stay at a mental institution where I was allowed a comp...
