Depraved things,
call out to me.
a chill rushes through,
so quietly.
Blood leaking down,
thorns dragged in circles,
one state of mind,
one subdued feeling.
Million more laments,
found their way.
Envisaging life,
scraping the surface.
Ripping inside,
Trimming through,
Slithering out,
Now I only see darkness,
an illusion?
Just evaded my way.
Vigour failing,
Vision blurring,
Mind numbing.
Light, Clarity, Amour.
Where?
But the shadows await,
Keep falling,
Into the sunless of voids.
Simran Jolly
YOU ARE READING
The Bleeding Rose
PoetryThis book is generally based on a girl who had endured a lot of pangs all through love, obsession, shattered heart and obviously by an adrifted amour. And all these concepts or ideas written by author's vivid imagination and fascinations towards poe...
