Bleeding, bleeding, bleeding...
I bleed
Only me and red blood
It runs, runs down my fingertips
Drops, drops to the floor, burns holes to the carpet
It´s easy to be for a moment
Graphs of red cuts
Beautiful patterns on my skin
Signs of shame
Scriptures of pain
Bleeding, bleeding, bleeding...
I can taste copper and salt
I barely feel!
If it could last
Flows, flows, flows...
Drops become rivers
Rivers make lakes
Many lakes turns to salty ocean
"Graphs of red cuts
ReplyDeleteBeautiful patterns on my skin
Signs of shame
Scriptures of pain
Flows, flows, flows...
Drops become rivers
Rivers make lakes
Many lakes turns to salty ocean"
Seems to me the best proof yet why I love your writing SO much :o
(Ps. "wholse" should be "holes" right..?)
yes, holes, yes....
ReplyDeleteglad you gave your comment, I´ve been wondering... ^^