Freedom with Death?
(18+)
My life is coming to an end, my mind is crushed from the lies. Stabbing you through invisible walls. My heart grows numb from the hands that had the privilege to hold it. If my heart ceases to beat, would my pain go away or will it follow like all the needles that ever pricked my finger. No one can see my pain, but it's hard to breathe. I'm dying slowly and invisibly to the naked eye. God knows what is happening to my heart, catching fire from the burn of Lies. As I breathe, smoke rises from my lungs and into the atmosphere. My lungs decay from the dreadful kiss of death. Poison fills my taste, drowning my life with pain. Warm crimson liquid spewing from my lips. The smell of decay fills the air. Death staring me in the face.
2018-06-24 09:52:12
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Схожі вірші
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Question 1?/Вопрос 1?
The girl that questions everything,is a girl that needs many answers.She wanders the earth trying to find the person that can answer her many queries.Everthing she writes has a hidden question that makes her heart ache and her head hurt.She spends days writing sad story's that she forgets her sad life.Shes in a painful story that never ends,she's in a story that writes itself.The pages in the book were filled ever so easy,because her heart wrote it for her.She spent her life being afraid,that's what made it so boring.Finding her passion was easy,but fulfilling it was the hardest part of all.Her writing may be boring and sad,but it's what keeps her sane. "She had all the questions in the word,and he had all the answers." Lillian xx
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Приходи (RU-UA)
Черничные пироги, молоко с мёдом. Приходи. Почитаю тебе стихи и раны замажу йодом. Буду исцелять поэтапно все твои трещинки и порезы, даже в твоё заледеневшее сердце, поверь мне, — смело полезу. Повір! Залізу без страху. Без жалю, не боячись. Бо наше розпалене вогнище змушує бути хоч чимось. І тільки не хвилюйся — ми не розчинимось. Ні одне у одному, ні у часі. Мы снова столкнёмся, неспособные противостоять этой связи. Истощенные, но в друг друге, нашедшие дом. Якщо не перше життя, то і не перший том. Не перший різновид мов у моїх віршах. Не найдёшь меня в жизни? Отыщешь во снах. За той дверью, где я нам в пирог добавляю чернику. Приходи. Мне одной без тебя здесь ужасно дико.
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