deepundergroundpoetry.com
Pieces of Blood
The life around me, like glass
Yearning for sharpness or transparency
They are far from prisms
From their light, all I see is anguish,
Blood; let there be.
Bashing every piece
Their remains, mark my sides
Blood; purer reflection in pieces.
Yearning for sharpness or transparency
They are far from prisms
From their light, all I see is anguish,
Blood; let there be.
Bashing every piece
Their remains, mark my sides
Blood; purer reflection in pieces.
Published 6th Feb 2024
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