Misplaced Missive #60 – Doesn’t Matter

Playing with blades
Handing you the hilt
One turn, one tilt,
To cut me open.
Let me bleed,
All I’m hoping.

Don’t realize they’re real,
‘Til after my life, you steal.
It’s okay, play away,
My blood
My body
My soul
I give to you today,
Poetry in pain.

Doesn’t matter.
For this broken art,
Corrupted crimson,
From the hollowing of heart.
One end is another start.


One thought on “Misplaced Missive #60 – Doesn’t Matter

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