Derek Morningstar

Rookie - 337 Points (3/21/1997)

The Crimson Song - Poem by Derek Morningstar

I've seen your art from years alone.
cuts so deep almost to the bone
I'll tailor your wounds stitches woven of words with emphasis so strong
A thousand painful lyrics never said, a silence you sang to long
I made a book for the songs you wrote
Filled with every lonely stifled note
The melodies of each heart beat paints rivers red with each and every stroke

The haunting past that I once knew
The same present that now torment's you
I tried to bind the seeping ballads of your cuts, but guitars still strum
Even now after your gone that song I'm forced to hum
Though it's been years, months and days
Your never forgotten and your music still plays
Was I to late or to wrong
No matter how eloquent i should not have let you play that crimson song
There was a time I played that song to
I used to perform it all the time, and I'd play it just for you

Topic(s) of this poem: books, love, sad, sadness


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, December 10, 2015

Poem Edited: Thursday, December 24, 2015


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