deepundergroundpoetry.com
Letting it out.
Held this blade against the veins that surfaces on my wrist.
Just one or two slits and it will all come out.
The pain, The lies, The truth, The love, the Hate.
Take this flowing blood and draw my darling a picture.
Upon the canvas where my fed up heart pulses its last pulse.
Just one or two slits and it will all come out.
The pain, The lies, The truth, The love, the Hate.
Take this flowing blood and draw my darling a picture.
Upon the canvas where my fed up heart pulses its last pulse.
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