The masklike facade
I triumphantly rouse,
No mask, nor makeup, could hide this bruise,
blue tinted violet,
lain upon my chest,
lungs grasp eternity,
yet falls short.
'thoughts race to find time,
yet always come to late.'
So much hate,
resides in a mind,
of the youth thats been taken,
the bloody reflection,
the scarred wrists,
the self esteem,
thats lower,
than just 6 feet.
'I wish for death,
yet I'm only worthy of life.'
Seen through my pain,
theirs nothing there...
but a bruise never known,
something I've never shown,
an emotion I pretend to forget,
but know all to well.
look closer,
you won't see anything,
no magnifying glass,
nor given heart,
will ever be enough,
to heal Crimson scars.
'I hold every empty breath,
holding it...
never wanting to release,
yet suffoction so willing,
burns the most.'
Hey one the youngest poets of the this website and one the biggest poets of this site with more than 300 poems to her name, crimson is no milk bub! She is star poetess who can inspire poets like who just has written only 100................... 'never wanting to release, yet suffoction so willing, burns the most.' ' I like the above finishing touch in the poem which makes this poem to stand out... It's my honor to read your poem dearest poet.....10++++ is not enough..... yet another terrific poem by your Crimson Love!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your lungs are your brain's co-pilot. When your mind's tired of living, they take over. An unwilling reaction. Please keep on breathing!