Gazing at the mirror,
I see those scars bleeding.
Scars of your love, deep and screaming out load.
Drowning me in the darkest thoughts,
they strangle me down, consuming me from the inside.
And in all this riot, at the edge of losing hope.
I hear whispers of my inner voice,
constantly counseling me
and not letting me drift into the darkness.
~UnfortunatePoet
YOU ARE READING
Poetry By UnfortunatePoet
Poetry#7 in Poetry (17/09/2016) Poetry is the painting that I make on the eyes of the beholder, to reach their soul. I try hard imagining things, getting into character, to pen down these poems. But it's strangely true, every piece of my work has a bit...
