![]() the man in the mirrorA Poem by plainmerazorblade, cold and sharp singing songs cold of heart little cut, bleeding soul red blood hot water bowl infested water, reddish dye rush of blood from low to high pale skin,numbing touch losing grip lack a crutch rocking forth, from side to side snowy vision I am, I was, now I’ve died © 2013 plainmeReviews
|
Stats |