Red Blossoms

Fernando. A. Martinez.

15 Feb, 2017 09:13 PM
I sit quietly, 
as a stream of red 
runs a river down 
my arm. 
I wipe it away with 
my sleeve, and as the red 
blossoms form a pool,
I look down. 
smiling at the twisted beauty.
The red blossoms fall, hit,
against the sheet of white, 
laying upon the ground.
Aww at lass,
And to think,
To think, such beauty,
Such elegance, 
Could come up from the dark,
My hand on my heart
Silence draws near as I hear
The thump, thump, thump,
Beat, beat, beat
Why am I alive,
To think that, 
To think,
I must have gone Insane.
Not knowing what there is left to live for.
She was all I had,
All I needed, 
All I loved,
she is dead now
I could have stopped it.
I could have changed what lays the path
That led to such fate
I still remember the fear in her eyes,
such torment. 
One bottle for every night
One scar for every strife  
Her dad always
hitting her,
forcing her down to the bed
well from outside I sit in cry   
And she crying
Us holding each other close 
 Her telling me it’s alright,
Twinkling stars falling from her eyes,
As if she is trying to fool herself.
But yet, 
Yet she does not
Have the courage to ask for help.
Why can’t I walk in with a gun? 
Smirk as I pull the trigger  
Sending his ass to hell,
alone I sit, 
one cig lit,
a bottle in my right, 
a gun in my left,
no longer knowing what I have left
So she ran to her room to cry,
Swiftly she pulls the sheets from her bed,
And slowly sings a lullaby. 
As she grasps the 
Razor’s edge 
Looking down at flesh of white, 
scars so bright,
Closing her eyes 
Not wanting to fight 
She drags the tip a crossed 
looking down 
At the blood,
Laughs, this is it 
She’s had enough
Grits her teeth 
Strikes again    
Smiling as sea of red blossoms up
 to herself she 
Thought red, blossoms,
How strange,
Such a bazar
But… beautiful
Tags: Love In Hate
Vote +1
Next Poem >>


Post a Comment
profile pic
PennyWise says:
25 Nov, 2017 11:21 AM

Thank you for this m friend

Your Comment

Do not post other site's link, it will be considered as spam