The cuts on my arm bleed like a crimson flower,
Blooming only in the night
When humans are quiet but the voices are loud.
They all bloom when I'm alone.
Alone with my mind. Alone with the darkness.
The darkness swallows me whole like an endless night.
It feels like I'm dying, exactly like I wanted.
This is not pain.
This is me saving myself from falling deeper.
The higher you climb the harder you fall.
That is why I don't climb at all.
I will stay here.
In the darkness.
I will stay here.
Making these crimson flowers bloom
Until I have no more blood to feed them.
YOU ARE READING
Personal Poem Book
PoetryThis'll be a book filled with many poems that I will write throughout my writing. Some might be extremely happy and some might be extremely depressing. Most will be free style poems, as I mainly use them just to get my emotions out.
