(TRIGGERING)
Each day of his
Was something
Like everyday
Everyday of his version
His version being
Pain
Hurt
Words that cuts your soul
He is already dead
Already in hell
His soul left his body
No feelings to help
No spring
All rain
His body carrying scars
Everyone sees but no one cares for
His dead soul
Is damn cold
White and black
No color between
No rainbow
Like everyone says
Light doesn't come from the cracks
He has
Darkness is filled in instead
His touch hurts himself
From the pain
He is dead
But still in this world
Suddenly today
Blood gushing out of his wrist
Red bright red
He laying there peacefully
Closing his eyes
A sudden smile on his face
As his old friend darkness
Covered him
YOU ARE READING
ᵖᵒᵉᵐˢ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱᵐ| 𝗢𝗡 𝗚𝗢𝗜𝗡𝗚
PoetryHe stared at the sky Looking at the birds chirping and flying with there love ones He stared at them He smiled and looked down As tears of pain Suddenly slipped from his eyes (A POEM AND QOUTE BOOK FOR A IMAGINARY CHARACTER(S) "HIM")
