Realisation of pain and life.
Hello, My friend. The One I hereby Write.
Underneath my pen, my hopes and strengths come to life.
If these poems are to be the personification of my thoughts,
Then let them take wing, and find what it is they so desperately sought.
Vile, Incessant screams are flying around me.
The demons of my thoughts, haunting me...
Yes, I see you appear at night,
holding my conscious mind tight.
Rose Red, Why, The girl with the withered arm?
A quality so diminishing, a curse upon the innocent charm.
But, In catching the rose, Starts anew as the past is past.
If this life, a ghost of a thought, the withered arms of a tragic past.
Oh, here my diary lies, poetry's ears range far better than our own.
If eternity be smitten with dear curse and the stormy night comes down.
Here, I shall write. Until my heart has wept it's last scarlet, gaunt tears.
A house of lies, of cursed mistrust, I will never trust, be sincere.R