Mother it hurts...
It bleeds so that I cannot stop this crimson rain.
It leeks at all sides and leaves me terribly weak.
I cannot see the pale sun over the storm torn skies.
I cannot feel the icy snow anymore.
Mother it hurts so badly...
I have ruined everything with these hexed hands.
I have hurt anyone who ever loved me.
Not that I could never really inspire love-
But I can still hear the wailing in the winds.
I can still hear them savagely longing for my flesh.
I can still hear the horrifying clashing of swords.
Oh Mother!
It-it hurts, it hurts!
Please, Mother, please help me.
Mother... Mother... it hurts...
I do not want to die...Mother!
YOU ARE READING
Poetry of the Tides
PoetryA series of poems with different meanings and moods. They are all here and have been here a good time from the tides of my mind. I give you some entries of earnest tidings.
