My heart bleeds poetry, the way your wrists bleed blood
And so I bled, as my world fell into the mud
Yet I bleed not now, for neither do you,
and you don't care, so you're not going to.
But let it not be said, that I did not try,
I just can't bleed poetry, with a muse that's gone dry
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 6:42 AM UTC
My heart bleeds poetry, the way your wrists bleed blood
And so I bled, as my world fell into the mud
Yet I bleed not now, for neither do you,
and you don't care, so you're not going to.
But let it not be said, that I did not try,
I just can't bleed poetry, with a muse that's gone dry
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