Poetry

Crimson

The rope  is starting  to look friendly again

I make a ruse to overlook

The crimson hue  of impending pain,

Every ounce of me it took

                                           

To not glance at the distant mist

Seeping into my very being,

Mangled thoughts still persist

Though banished they seemed to be.

                                   

I  go sit with my  worst  foes

Knowing they were always right,

Death seems really cheerful as time goes

Goodbye comrade, I might just be seeing the light.

                                   

~Licia Saikia

Vishakhapatnam, India

One Comment

  1. Beautiful! This piece is very deep and meaningful… good job licia! Keep it up!!

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