I sit in my room,
painting a masterpiece,
on my wrists and thighs.
The ink is red,
the paintbrush is my
blade.
A masterpiece,
expressing so much feeling,
every emotion there to see.
The pain,
the betrayal,
the lost hope.
Written in
shades of red.
Lines and swirls later,
your name is carved into my wrist,
a masterpiece of
red ink.
It matches the scars
you left on my heart.
A tribute to my sanity,
that left long ago.
A tribute to the hope
I had let grow, only to have
destroyed.
All there
in beautiful
red ink...
YOU ARE READING
Musings of the Insane
PoetryThis is more or less a sequel to Nightmares, only this one will mostly be freestyle poetry. The same warning applies to this one. Also, if easily triggered, do not read, please. Thanks and enjoy.
