They say it hurts more and more
As you slowly crawl along the razors edge
That Beaming face has a rotten core
Your thick book of love has an empty last page
Conceal is your art, deception is your truth
Playing with this heart, shaking up its roots
The rainbow I loved always had an extra shade
The pain blow I absorbed morphed me into a living dead
Apr 29, 2020
Apr 29, 2020 at 3:08 PM UTC
They say it hurts more and more
As you slowly crawl along the razors edge
That Beaming face has a rotten core
Your thick book of love has an empty last page
Conceal is your art, deception is your truth
Playing with this heart, shaking up its roots
The rainbow I loved always had an extra shade
The pain blow I absorbed morphed me into a living dead
Request permission to use this poem