A clear stream of blood
Tickling down her wrist
A smile on her face
Satisfaction of an artist
Heart thumping in his chest
A few pills in his hand
A glass of water
Resting on the nightstand
She used to draw,
Red being her favourite colour
A bundle of joy
Full of humour
He had a passion
He loved to run
He used to smile,
His second name being fun
Stabbed in their backs
By those who were supposed to be their friend
The very same who jester,
And promise to be beside them till the end.
But now they understand,
That they were just a part of their past,
And maybe, just maybe,
It was their time at last.
YOU ARE READING
Labyrinth of my mind.
PoetryOur minds wander, at times poetically and at times philosophically. This is a collection of some of the poetic wandering of my mind. Welcome to, The Labyrinth of my mind.
