I remember the frustration on her face that night
She wasn't able to control her anger so she cried, screamed and weeped
she was feeling restless with a feeling of too much blood rushing in her vines
She saw the knife at the side table
And took it
She perched holes o
In her hand as she screamed
No one was there to stop her
So she continued on
Till the moment her hand was numb
And her face was bloody with blood.
YOU ARE READING
Rymth of the wind
PoetryRymth of wind is a fictional poetry book. Unsaid words and thoughts bleeds into a blend of words called poetry. "All that is worthy does not glimmer, the words are played like a piano with shimmer and this collection of poetry is a glorious mess of...
