The clouds an array of colors
Reflecting the coming sunset
And a word is written
As a cut is driven
Deep into the flesh of the forlorn
And a whimper is heard
From the recesses of a corner room
Crimson falling in patter form
Blending in with salty tears
And with sleep the memories fade….
I love the imagery you create with your brilliant words. Many try to leave memories behind with substance abuse or mutilation, and this poem really sheds light on the growing trend of finding a way to drown it all out.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You are a nature at this....Good write