Bloody Poetry
C
Crimson Love
0
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I lie upon a bed of roses,
The sweet smell intocicating me,
The thorns burrow deep, It hits the viens,
let the blood become who you are,
Your listening, but not hearing anything at all,
Let the drips from your veins become your final words,
Like poetry they fall upon this paper,
Bleeding ink in the form of an apology,
Forever stained with the blood you've given,
Everything you've said was meant to be written.
Bu şiiri puanla
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