Burning beneath my skin
A crimson river
A simple slice of silver
Makes pools below
The freedom from the slice of silver
The burning halts
The crimson river movies to a pond around
Pale lifeless
She lays
A crimson pond
From a slice of silver
Finally free
Crimson pools
No one mourns
No one sees
For now she gave herself freedom.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Collection
PoetrySome poetry. It is dark and could be triggering to some. I use poetry to get emotions out on my darkest days so it's not very happy.
