Thursday, 2 October 2014

Bleeding (Poem)



So the aprons and thine mildness 
Silently stood, weeping resisting 
My mind upholding and tearing apart 
What remained from mine previous start
And so it goeth farther and further 
I'm a man standing on Green, walking on Red
No, I'm not bull, not even mad. 
I simply see there is no one who cares about bleeding me. 

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