Those were cold days,
and the nights were the dark times.
Cried for hours,
and waited for long time.
Sat up late night,
broken and shattered.
Eyes were worn out
heavy and tired.
Hands were bleeding
just like my eyes.
Red was the colour
for my eyes and my hand.
Bruises remained
like the part of my soul.
But unlike my hand
they remained in my heart.
Wet like the rain washed me
over and over,
dripping from my eyes were
the sadness that's not over.
YOU ARE READING
Blue
PoetryThis is a collection of the poems I've written well this is my fourth series and I just felt like posting this only. keep reading and voting. Blue - depressed, moody, unhappy. Thanks a bunch everyone.
