Roses with thorns prickling me,
Vines growing up buildings.
I feel like they'll wrap around my throat,
Tightening until I can no longer breath.
The thorns on roses will hit my heart,
My blood dripping down and staining it red.
Between the thorns and vines I'll be dead,
My heart no longer beating and my breath no longer leaving.
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So, this is a poem from the book I'm writing for camp NaNo and yeah..I decided I haven't posted in what feels like forever so here something is!
YOU ARE READING
My Book Of Poetry
PoetryPoetry...it comes from inside, not from my mind...it comes from my heart, it's the way I express my emotion...not all of these poems will make sense, not all of the poems will be good, but they'll all hold a part of me...Hope you enjoy.
