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Himangshu Singh Apr 2020
Blood red.
it's captivating,
isn't it.

when it drools down the skin
clots it's path
and flushes the flirty cheeks.

when it spils out of the territorial body,
leaving a mark and
attracting attention.

blood red.
it's captivating,
isn't it.

when it can save a life,
where it could cost a life.

when the absence of it's occassional spill can mark a new life
whereas it's unnatural flow can take away an unseen life.

blood red.
it's captivating,
isn't it.
Anastasia Jun 2019
her soul was the flavor of anarchy
and he knew he wanted a taste
silver roses and bloodred flame
to win her heart was a lovely game
he kissed her in the rain
and she touched him without shame
he wanted her heart
but only got pain
she played around
with the strings of his heart
but she sometimes feared
she would tear them apart
a flicker
or flame
a bite
and a taste
of her
anarchy
soul.
i've had the words "anarchy soul" in my head for a while, so i decided to make a poem. have a lovely day <3

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