Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2019
Sometimes tomorrow’s stained with yesterday’s eyes.

The sun will still rise, its nothing new.

Wore out your sorrows,lived through the lies.

Weak are the fingertips comforting you.

Dry is the river, keeping you there.

Cracked are the wings flying to you.

Reaped all the crops, you needed to sow.

Fell from the sky, a warning flare.

Slipped in the wind, let it all go.



Standing in meadows praying for rain.

Soft is the blade twisting through you.

Tired are the wounds bringing you pain.

Sometimes tomorrow’s smeared with black.

Dry are the veins pumping through you.

Slipped through your fingers, it’s not coming back.

Sometimes tomorrow’s better left alone.

Secrets you kept, will punish you.

Left to the fate you’ve stitched and sewn.

Sometimes you wake up,it cuts through you.

Puncturing skin, it’s nothing new.

Sometimes tomorrow,will bleed for you.

Sometimes tomorrow’s stained with yesterday’s eyes.

The sun will rise, its nothing new.
Ranger kessel
Written by
Ranger kessel  41/M/Green Bay, WI
(41/M/Green Bay, WI)   
95
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems