If only souls could bleed,
the rivers would run red.
Rush like crimson veins of pain along
a muddy bed of strains and broken bones.
Waterfalls would weep and brooks babble with bawling cries of sorrow.
But the problem would be theirs then, and not with us.
Souls, empty of sorrow, cleansed of clogged up cruelty.
We would be free.
Free to watch the bees fly and birds sing.
Free to smile at sunrise and dream at dusk.
We would be happy.
But rivers would run red,
the sea would wail with waves of wilting worries at the selfish scars we left.
While we ate and drank in joy.
We could live in soul-cleaned glory,
and embrace a life of joy and joy alone.
Our children would smile with blood-tinged grins as they splashed in crimson lakes;
revelling in the sorrow of innocent prey of selfish souls.
Our souls must be our own.
If they be red then let be.
Let be the lakes and the waterfalls and the sea.
Let them be.
We shall greet our children with gleaming grins of love,
And if that love be shaded red,
then love.
Thank you so much for reading! It's been a while since I've published anything but I hope to write a bit more from now on. I hope you enjoyed this poem! Any feedback would be welcomed with open arms:). Again, thanks for taking the time to read!
Until next time :D
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Whispers of the Mind
PoetryWords have power. I learnt that from an early age. I love that you can bring people to other worlds and take them for a tour, create a whole universe in peoples minds, or give a special kind of hope and friendship to them. I love to welcome peopl...
