Veiled with a white sheet,
Bright, charming and neat!
Strokes ready to be forged,
To colour the plain white gauge.
The urge to ruin at its peak!
Something so pure, neat and weak.
Monsters lurking and slick attacks!
Only bearable with a tainted heart.
One stab! Two stabs!
Crimson rings setting on the canvas!
Three stabs! Four stabs!
Blood drips out as the knife darts.
Tears streaming down the face
No signs of stopping that blade.
Painting away the row of emotions,
That the painter has faced.
Painting a painting of bright crimson hues
Pour out your soul for the view.
Torn and ripped till the canvas blooms,
The canvas bears the blows of gloom!
The canvas now bloodied screams for help!
The strokes of the painter they lead to its death.
Death as in a living corpse.
Wounded till nothing remains no more.
Passersby they keep mum.
As if without a tongue,
How cruel of them at that!
For they have a body with no heart!
Eyes blinded and wrapped in black.
With no sense of justice and as still as a rack!
They cheer for the crimson
And keep resenting the white in the canvas!
So be it! They blurt!
Let's ignore the blood!
And! Let us all Laugh
at the gauge's fall.....
~Sam.
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Ummm... Hey!!!
How have u been sweetie ✨
Hope you doing good .
This poem is something I have written to give out an imagery of how bullying affects the victim....
Hope I am good enough to convey that message...if not then no worries!
I still got a lot to learn...
Pls tell me your opinion on this and don't forget to vote ❤️❤️♥️❤️
Thx.
Bue bue❤️
YOU ARE READING
WHISPERS OF THE SOUL ||Poetry||
PoetryA soul so broken and trifled at heart, She writes in order to escape the world. Names of random objects in mind, She keeps writing to escape norms and time... Caged by the chains of restraint! & caged by the expectations to come. No one to turn to f...
