The morning was harsh ,
And it hurt.
The sun was bleeding ,
The morning felt the burn .

It hurt bad ,
The heart was heavy ,
Heaving with shrouded shout ,
It hurt .

But do not let the door stay closed ,
If it hurts , let it hurt more ,

The wine turned black ,
The lunatic bled ,
And every drop of blood, she tenderly swept ,

The noon was harsh ,
And it hurt ,
The sun was obscured ,
The clouds were black ,

It hurt bad ,
Really really bad ,
His breath was heavy ,
Suffocated ,

Smothered in wound ,
It hurt bad ,

But do not let the door stay closed ,
If it hurts , let it hurt more ,

The spoon turned red ,
With the heat he freed ,
The lunatic bled ,
And every drop of blood, she tenderly swept ,

The afternoon was a rush ,
He could not weave a new burn ,
But he melt .

The flame ,
The ruin ,
The wound ,
The unseen ,
Forsaken .

The night was cold ,
Snowy and alone ,
He could not breathe ,
Still he spoke ,
Mistaken , misfortune ,

She nurtured , She swept ,
Every drop he bled .
It hurts , It is wounded .

©