The Bleeding

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The Bleeding

It cuts and I cut at my soul
the image of a blade cutting into the part of me
that is never silent
never kind

Would you mind if i hurt you
it speaks so kind
so dark its plan to destroy that which i work for
I scream a silent screams

Tried and worn
fighting to be the me i am
to bury the past
the bleeding dripping down my fingers

Blood mixing with tears,
I cant allow myself to free
To be free from all to be blessed
blessed and bleeding

So kind my inner core cuts at me
and bleeding in my head i lay
unsure that anything is real
knowing it all is

It tells me Heaven is a lie
and i know heaven is not
I am the one who will break it
i could be the one to fault

I could tear it all in two
because inside it cuts me to be
Bleeding from my inner battle
Bleeding to be what i know i must

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Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

EmberRota’s Poems (16)

Title Comments
Title Comments
The Bleeding 0
What I See 1
Self Asking 0
Demands of an Overlooked Essence 1
~~Shaman's Sight~~ 0
Bloody Raindrops 3
A Kiss Could Be Deadly 2
Pennies 1
Sometime the Song Haunts 0
There is No Heaven 1
The Rain in My Head 2
Sleeping 1
Battle 0
Epiphany 1
Only half as good 6
Beautiful Soul---For Michele Line 1