Your spirit haunts each second I survive,
You lead me to my past, when I was blind,
And show the time I last saw you alive.
The night was icy, but I didn't mind.
You spoke of sins that you could not erase.
You said they lied, your guilt they did assume.
You changed your name but couldn't change your face.
Your fingerprints were all around the room,
A room whose walls were painted with her blood.
"I'm scared," you said, you didn't want to die.
False accusations thrown at you like mud,
You begged for help, in my arms you did cry.
I couldn't think of anything to say,
But now I wish I hadn't walked away.
YOU ARE READING
I Hate to Rain on Your Parade But I'm a Cloud That's My Job (Poetry Chapbook)
PoetryA collection of poems that don't really follow a theme at all. Some might be sad, some might be happy, some might be inspiring, some might be funny, most of them are entirely subjective. Some are very short, there are several haiku, but groups of th...
