Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave
My heart into my mouth.
My fingers bleed
The words I cannot speak.
Silent. Eloquent.
My soul could be seen
Only upon the darkening sheet,
When the clouds become gray
And rain begins to fall.
Read the words. Blood and tears.
Read my heart.
It’s bleeding ink.
A/N: The first two lines inspired the whole poem (besides the writer's mood). It's from Shakespeare's King Lear, one of Cordelia's lines.
Please tell me what you think? I haven't written poems in a long time.
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Read my Eyes
Poetry“The tongue in flattering falsehood deals, and tells a tale it never feels; deceit the guilty lips impart, and hush the mandates of the heart; but soul’s interpreters, the eyes, spurn such restraint and scorn disguise.” (Lord Byron) Probe mine. Tell...
