Pain, do cease,
Mend the sickle cuts,
As it trickle down my neck piece,
My blood diminishes my guts.
I lost my balance,
While on a tight rope,
The vacuum, the air absence,
Stood to denounce my hope.
I succumbed to the scars beneath,
Couldn't understand the words in between,
Couldn't stand the wreath,
Couldn't wipe my slate clean.
____________________________
YOU ARE READING
In Between Those Two Pages
Poetry"A little too less, tasteless, A little too much, unbearable." Such is salt, and so is life. To the rose I preserved in between those two pages for so long that the pages no longer smell of them. Highest ranking: #44 in poetry as of 08.12.16
