truth, truth.

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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




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 2018 Kathryn Thorne. All rights reserved.