I still remember
The smell of coppery blood
The sounds of silent screams
The red on the walls
And on the floor
I haven't forgotten
The nights spent in horror
The the way wind whispers
Through empty rooms
That were once filled with joy
I won't forget
The knives on the floor
The flames caught on the curtains
The shadow in the window sill
The ripped-off heads
I still remember
The blood of your mother
And your father and brother
Spilled on the floor
Waiting to be avenged
I haven't forgotten
The chainsaw laying in front
The walls marked with pain
The holes punched through the glass
The sound of your screams
I won't forget
How you burned yourself to the ground
Chopped your tongue off, went silent
And here you are, alive, yet dead
Would it make sense to say, it was all in your head?
YOU ARE READING
She Loved Withering Sunflowers
PoetryA collection of poems that alternate genres and moods. a book to the universe, so that it may know her.
