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The Pain That Shows
August 8, 2009
As I sit here in the POURING RAIN,
And the RAIN DROPS fall down my face,
Soaking through my cloths,
Sliding down my cheeks and,
Dripping off of my hair,
Disguising every TEAR,
And washing away the BLOOD,
That flows through my veins,
And out my WRISTS, onto my JEANS,
A dark red spot, the color of a rose,
Oh the irony of the colors,
© Anonymous
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This article has 4 comments.
charlotte420 said...
on Sep. 24 2009 at 12:02 pm
i totally love this poem. This is almost like one of mine that i wrote.
Rebecca321 said...
on Sep. 23 2009 at 5:03 pm
I really like this. To me it was like a romance gone bad and now the character's a cutter, and the irony is that the color of the rose (love) is the color of your blood (pain) I may be wrong, but that's just how I saw it.
dark.death.love GOLD said...
on Sep. 23 2009 at 2:14 pm
that is a really stongly worded poem and i LOVE it...i wish i was that good!!
5 articles 1 photo 2 comments
Favorite Quote:
The metaphorical brick walls in life are not there to keep people out, they are there to make sure you want in bad enough.->->-> comes from Randy Palche's last lecture :)