The Blue Orbs
So I bow down, my head's too heavy
My eyes search for a place to rest,
They meet those blue orbs, staring
Right back at me, mocking my insecurity.
Then I look upon my hands, scarlet red they were,
Red streaked with blue orbs tears
Too strong to cry when alive
No life to cry, now they stare
Right back at me, mocking my insecurity
I looked at my side, the gun still lie
The pretty scarlet red glistening,
In the crepuscular light of the sun,
And I stare one last time in those blue orbs, they stare right back at me,
Mocking my insecurity.
I have shrivelled, let the blue orbs have relief
I have lessened their pain,
And took it in my head.
Baby blue, it's all on me.
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Comments about this poem (The Blue Orbs by Cris Valery )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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