The red roses are dieing,
And violets are already dead,
My garden once full of flowers,
Is nothing but tragic and sad.
And they didn't dry out,
Cause I've constantly cried,
Nothing could make them stay,
I've tried it all to keep them alive.
This garden I used to show,
Full of proud and happiness,
But all they did was rip them out,
All my lovely guests.
I let them in, those broken souls,
Cause colour's what they needed,
Blind to see, without the flowers,
I'm lacking air to keep on breathing.
YOU ARE READING
Written by the Wind
PoesieIf things get too terrible to speak them out loud, that's when I start writing.. A compliation of my german and english poems. //Eine Zusammenstellung meiner deutschen und englischen Gedichte. Don't read it if you're easily triggered. These poems am...
