This is life,
And this is death.
This is the Sanctuary,
Where my Soul lies,
Between the words,
I bleed from my lips.
I will write the tragedy,
Which my heart sings,
In the dead of Night,
When I lay alone,
Weeping the blood,
I shed,
On your thorns.
YOU ARE READING
Scourge: A Poetry Collection
Poetry"I have Scourged your soul, While you drew on me, So intricately. All I can ask for, Is forgiveness, Which I don't deserve, Anymore." Scourge: A poetry Collection
