There's a lump in my throat when I try to scream,
and the tears in my eyes only dry when I dream.
My breaths are short, and fast, and forced,
my voice is low, and rough, and hoarse.
My skin is melting, brain is burning,
flaming with transparent yearning,
I held my fingers to my face,
and felt along the charred remains.
You set fire to my soul,
now my bones are black as coal.
My blood on your palms haunts me in my sleep,
so I lay in my bed of ashes and weep.
The red is a stain on my fingertips,
and the bed is a hand that holds on to your sins.
The thorns have appeared since the roses have faded,
I hope for my sake I'm not blamed for what they did.
-GS
YOU ARE READING
Once Upon a Rhyme
PoetryThis is not a poem, it's a cry for help This is not a poem if it can't be felt This is not a poem for you to tell This is my poem. This is my hell. This will be the end of me This is the sway of the willow tree This was the way that you looked at me...
