Roses are red
Violets are blue
Life's not a flower garden
And can't explain what I've been through.
From ambivalence
To scalding
Next comes defiance
And not folding.
A life in hell
And questioned sanity
Hated by family
Creature of calamity.
Emotionally detached
And lacking feeling
From all the pain caused
There is no healing.
And with this I end
My story of woes
Leaving it to be forgotten
Smothered by crows.
YOU ARE READING
Lachrymose
PoesíaLachrymose /ˈlakrɪməʊs,ˈlakrɪməʊz/ adjective tearful or given to weeping. A collection of amateur prose and poetry illustrating the inner turmoil. Mainly a dumping ground for loose thoughts and ideas to be interpreted in whatever manner.
