Scarlet drips of memories
Upon a snow-white floor
Golden night-lights on the walls
And gray outside the door
Violet veins like spiderwebs
Twist round two marble arms
Flawed by copper anger marks
And little salmon scars
Beneath her lashes, amber dreams
Of blue pacific eyes
Still torture her with black despair
And haunt her jaded mind
Crystal rivers down her cheeks
Silver slits her skin
Crismon trickles down her wrist
Ghostly heart within
This is the rainbow of regret
That sparkles through her tears;
A promise of the one she'll find
Sometime in later years.
YOU ARE READING
The Art of Confusion
कविताDiana Miller is schizophrenic...or at least she thinks so. She has never been clinically diagnosed because her father believes that mental illness is demon possession, and she knows he would never take her to a psychiatrist. To cope with her inner c...
