My world is no longer colored red
I'm not pulled by a deafening rage.
No longer wishing to be an angel of death,
my dramatic self finally leaves the stage.
Slowly, I gain back control of my mind.
My breathing normalizes.
That part of me is gone, but what's left behind?
Everything has now turned to ashes.
"Will you forgive me?" I say, watery eyes,
face contrived by shame and remorse
you say you do, but your stare, cold like ice,
punishes me with fearful force
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 10:55 PM UTC
My world is no longer colored red
I'm not pulled by a deafening rage.
No longer wishing to be an angel of death,
my dramatic self finally leaves the stage.
Slowly, I gain back control of my mind.
My breathing normalizes.
That part of me is gone, but what's left behind?
Everything has now turned to ashes.
"Will you forgive me?" I say, watery eyes,
face contrived by shame and remorse
you say you do, but your stare, cold like ice,
punishes me with fearful force
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