the bullet rips through the night
like a needle trailing a thread of blood
mending together the fabric of my life,
but the rain is falling and drowning me in self-guilt,
as i rape the pain with angel tears shed by the dealer of design,
wondering who created this fabric of life,
my life,
torn by the hands of depression,
mended
by bullets and blood
needles and thread
as i fall into a euphoria
of tears
Copyright 2007
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i agreee with aka vaiper... it's sad but very good.. comment my poems...if you wil..thakns