Breaking inside,
I can't go on
Not when what I had
Is gone.
The clouds are grey
My wrist is red
My soul is tainted
And already dead.
YOU ARE READING
Dark Poetry
PoetryWar breaks out, Or so they shout. The odds of winning Are in doubt. We have no clue What the war is about, Yet we fight On and out. I'd like to get some stuff off of my chest. Some words I'd like to say. Some things I want to admit. All can be said...
(VIII) Breaking Inside
Breaking inside,
I can't go on
Not when what I had
Is gone.
The clouds are grey
My wrist is red
My soul is tainted
And already dead.
