Roses are red
Violets are blue
The pills are white
And sugar is sweet and so are you
But the roses have wilted
And the violets are dead
The pills are gone
And the the sugar bowl is empty
Now I'm laying here dead
Do you see the signs now
Would you have kissed my lips knowing a blade has kissed my wrist
(Yes the art is mine)
YOU ARE READING
❞The Art Of Pain❞ ➵ {Poetry}
Poetry❝The art of pain is as beautiful as rose petals and yet as painful as the thorns to accept it is as accepting being pulled apart piece by piece and still living❞ ((Trigger warning, some mention of self harm))
