In your Book of Life,
There are tear marks everywhere,
And spots of spilt ink and blood,
Here and there.
Is it because of that day?
The day your beloved one departed from you,
And how that one incident,
Left your soul all numb and blue.
Do you remember the smell of blood,
In the atmosphere, lingering,
And how you kept blaming yourself for their death,
Having absolutely no inkling?
Do you remember the horrible feeling,
Of having a part of you broken,
In the moment of their murder,
Which is, in your mind, forever frozen.
Is that why you keep scarring yourself,
With things you don't mean,
And noting them in your Book of Life,
Ever since you were a teen.
Is that why you regret playing your role,
On the morbid yet pretty death's stage,
But honey, it's time to stop blaming yourself,
And as for your Book of Life, it's time to turn the bloody page ( pun intended 😈 )
YOU ARE READING
Project Alpha
PoetryThese are a bunch of poems that I wrote and I hope you like them ! Most of them are morbid as hell ( pun intended ) 😈 so if you like poems of those sorts , you will definitely love mine ! -written by my sister
