When I hit the ground,
and I heard you shout,
When I hit the ground,
and, in pain, I cried out;
I bruised and I bled,
I was cut and torn,
Your gaze was cold as I snagged on the thorns.
Roses of blood,
Dew made of tears,
Unseeing eyes
that see beyond years.
Water that's only salt,
Ink that has dried,
Words that can't take back,
tongues have lied.
Ugly faces covered by pretty masks,
cracked truths and beautiful lies,
right and wrong, they are the same,
Set fire to the rise.
YOU ARE READING
My Biggest Mistake
PoesíaLove is merely dust in the wind. You have it, then you don't.
