truth, truth.

Reads: 32  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
poetry from year 9.

Submitted: July 19, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 19, 2012

A A A

A A A


 

blades will fall onto my bed 

as each memory runs through my head.

what is worse, the fact that you

think i’m ignorant, mean, a senseless fool,

or the fact i face with blood each night,

knowing, so, how your words ring right?

with a white-hot scale, eternity;

secrets, hidden, burn with me.

resent, regret; running away,

to another place

to another day;

wanting to restart, mindlessly hoping;

waiting to reset, hopelessly coping.

sick to my gut, coughing up blood,

pulsing my senses to hear the flood

of time & life which happened before,

wanting to cry, trying to ignore

what has been done, not knowing what would

happen to prevent the best that could.

with a white-hot scale, eternity;

there is no one else to blame-

but me.


© Copyright 2017 Kathryn Thorne. All rights reserved.