As you slit your pale wrist that night,
the drops that fell told something to your heart,
the blood has escaped your prison, oh dear,
but what of the pain that ripped you apart?
Don’t you ever laugh, at the chaos inside?
A home you called yours, ruined and stolen.
You don’t live there, not your soul anymore
but someone you’ve never known, theΒ you who’d fallen
You smile with the tears, for how could you not
be grateful to the one, that never left you alone?
The windless chimes tinkle in this room,
even silence speaks to you, for no one has ever shown.
Lonely you were called, as if it was your name
you tried to pull off those ears, to stop hearing at some days
but if this ever worked, you’d know the next thing you’d do
you’d pull and lock your heart, and stare at the key you just threw.
If there’s ever another light, that wakes you up at night
you sing yourself to sleep, drinking your tears as you weep
You count the drops of blood, that fell from your pale wrist
you didn’t need the light no more, it was darkness that you missed.
Fantastic what a poem you have penned, Harsh. Depth of darkness and he was slit beyond repair could not see any light. It had totally vanished. Awesome.
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hello Harsh.. how are you ?
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Harshhh, long time??? Hope you are doing well!!
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