She was a book,
Of beguiling panic.
As if it was screaming,
For someone'
To fill those empty,
Chapters.
Next to her lied an empty,
Bottle of booze.
I could hear her grief,
As if she had departed
From life itself.
Felt like someone had,
Stabbed her.
With kinves of discomfort.
As she bled'
And lost herself yet again,
With no one next to her.
Only her and-
Her empty corpse.
Empty of blood
And fervour.
~Krishna~
YOU ARE READING
Truly Beautiful
PoetryI can't see past you, But i'm too scared to make a move! A short book of poetries that you can relate to ig? By- Krishtastic (Krishna) (#1 on newera) (#1 on spilled thoughts)
