Drip - drop, drip - drop it hits the floor,
Mixing with unholy flour.
I mix and ground and put it in a mold.
It shines brighter than a bar of gold.
I leave the wound to drip and bleed,
Roll out the barrel of old mead.
The tables set and the bride is here,
Unseen darkness coming near.
I get the knife, you hold my head,
The unheard words have been said.
The knife is through and i am dead,
On me they lay the flower of dread.
5 comments:
The unheard words have been said.
unheard words can be heard..so true.
The knife is through and i am dead,
On me they lay the flower of dread.
u can write when ur 6 feet under?????
I think i can :D
i think there needs to be more in the poem... y wud u kill urself?! wht abt the bride? was ure blood mixing in the batter of her wedding cake? y did u lose her?
Oh shuckz...........i dunno.........maybe i was too lame..........too depressional...........dunno :P
i hv riten it the way it came.....
its DEPRESSED or DEPRESSION.
:PP
loveu:P
Post a Comment